The Elder Scrolls: Down with an Empire
by JinxJenks
Summary: A group of men and women attempt to dismantle the empire to rebuild it anew, with the express intent of destroying the Thalmor, however their plans go quite far awry more than a few times, and when Logvarine's brother returns, nowhere is safe to hide from his wrath. (I do not own The Elder Scrolls) -!READ 'THE ELDER SCROLLS: DOWN WITH AN EMPIRE (PRELUDE)' FIRST!-
1. Do You Remember?

(Remember to read the Prelude of this story)

THE ELDER SCROLLS:

DOWN WITH AN EMPIRE

Story by Logan Jenkins

"Cat, do you remember when we first came to Skyrim?" said a DarkElf man who sat upon a makeshift throne of stone and clay. They sat inside of a cave east of Solitude, up in the mountains. Dwemeri columns lined the way to his seat, men and women of all types sat and stood around the room. Cat was leaning against Logvarine's throne.

"Of course, how could one forget such a day?"

* * *

4E 201

"Did you bring your pipe?" asked Catath'een whispering toward Logvarine. He looked at her with joyful eyes.

"By the Divines I did." They laughed at that for a bit and then the ride went quiet again. Most of the ride into Skyrim was quiet with a bit of small talk here and there; Talk of the rebellion in Skyrim and of the so called 'Killer of Kings' Ulfric, Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the Stormcloak Rebellion that has been threatening the Imperial presence in Skyrim. Logvarine assumed that their mission involved him, he was right in a way…

"Halt!" shouted an Imperial guard. "Let me see your papers please." Tylnar handed him the papers to allow them into Skyrim.

"Everything checks out, you may move along sir… oh and sir!"

"Yes, what is it?" asked an impatient Tylnar.

"I recommend heading to Helgen from here, word is we are going to execute Ulfric there if we catch him with the trap we have set today," spoke the guard, "will be a sight to see." Everyone was listening now, and Tylnar smiled with large teeth at him.

"Sounds like fun, we'll head there right away!"

"You folks behave yourselves in Skyrim." He said as they rode away.

* * *

Logelaine had made his own way into Skyrim, through the woods and over the mountains. He had evaded border patrol like a master, and then he came upon an unlikely scene; a sole High elf woman tending to the wounds of some Stormcloak soldiers.

"Who are you?" asked Logelaine, she didn't turn when she answered him.

"My name is Saline. I happened across these poor sods in the forest and didn't have the heart to leave them to die." Logelaine was confused by the scene still.

"My name is Logelaine, would you like some help, I'm quite skilled in restoration." The woman still did not look at him, her clothes were rags, tattered and torn.

"Yes, I would appreciate help. Thank you." Logelaine got right to healing the injured soldiers, but they were interrupted soon after by the sound of horses.

* * *

They arrived in Helgen at around noon, the architecture was very familiar, and they parked the carriage outside of the imperial tower there. The headsman was sharpening his axe and cackling to himself.

"Greetings, Logvarine is it? I think I knew your grandfather." Spoke General Tullius, an Imperial General assigned to Skyrim.

"Was his name Logsharn Hlaalu?" asked Logvarine.

"Yes, Yes, he helped train me, I even served under him at one time…" he sighed, "He was a good man."

"And we shall remember him as such, General…" Logvarine continued, "Let me buy you a mead General."

"I would be honoured, it was rare for an elf to rise so quickly in the Imperial military, your family is Legendary." General Tullius and Logvarine's friends made their way into the Tavern.

"Hello Vilod." Said Tullius to the bartender. Vilod turned around and leaned against the counter.

"Greetings Tullius, are these your friends?"

"Yes, and Drinks are on me tonight." Logvarine threw a bag of coins onto the counter. "For the WHOLE bar." He said chuckling. There were hoots and cheers of joy, the people must have really liked their mead because they started cheering his name. For at least an hour everyone danced and sang, drinking their problems away, only Logvarine and Tullius sat in the corner talking about Ulfric and his rebellion.

"His Head must roll if—" Catath'een interrupted Tullius by taking Logvarine by the arm for a dance as people played the Piccolo and the lute and sang merry songs of Joy and Happiness.

* * *

"Whe… Where am I?" muttered Logelaine with his hands bound and weapons gone, Saline sat beside him.

"So you're Finally awake?" asked Ralof, "You walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

"We're going to be killed…" whispered Saline.

* * *

"The Execution will start soon, they're outside the gates, you can stay here, I'll come and get you when it begins." Said Tullius. Logvarine put down his mead bottle and put his mask up.

"Okay, good luck to you." He replied. The General left for the main gate, while the rest stayed in the tavern. "I can't wait to see his head roll."

* * *

"Look at him, General Tullius the military Governor, and it looks like the Thalmor are with him, Damn Elves!" Ralof said as he spit in their direction.

"How are we going to get out of this?" Logelaine whispered to Saline.

"We're not, we are going to die, or fate will save us."

* * *

"It's time for the execution, we've already killed one of them!" screamed a guard.

"Great, we missed the first one." Sighed Em-Shei the Argonian.

"it's fine, were here to see Ulfric, so let's get out there." When they got out there the sight was much different than imagined. Logelaine had his head on the chopping block.


	2. I Believe In You

"Stop the Execution!" screamed Logvarine, but his voice was deafened by the fact that a Giant Scaly Monster had just landed on the tower. "By the divines…" he breathed. After the monster shouted to the heavens, meteors rained down on the settlement, and then it turned its head to Logvarine, it was a Giant, Black Dragon!

"Dovahkiin…" it said. Logvarine could see his brother running from the block with a Nord, a Stormcloak.

"Move!" screamed Tylnar as a pile of wood fell from a building. Everyone scrambled to the town gate, the tavern was almost gone, burned to the ground by the dragon speaking in its ancient language. General Tullius saw them running and stopped them.

"Not that way," everyone stopped in their tracks and looked at him, "Into the Keep soldier; we're leaving!" the dragon swooped down and grabbed a soldier in its large talons. When they made it to the keep they met with a soldier named Hadvar arguing with the nord they saw earlier and Logelaine, a high elf woman was with them.

"Fine, I hope that Dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" cursed Hadvar. Hadvar turned to face the group, "Into the keep with me soldier." And they ran by his brother who snarled at him.

"Come on!" shouted Logvarine, but Logelaine just kept running with the nord man to the other end of the keep.

* * *

"I remember as we made our way through and out of the keep, all we found were the corpses of Imperial soldiers, and no Logelaine…" Spoke Logvarine, sitting on his throne, the throne of his resistance to the Thalmor. At this point his Existence was an insult to the Aldmeri Dominion and a threat to their power base in general.

"I remember how confused we were when we arrived in Whiterun…" said the voice of Nivard, now in a set of full ebony armour, except for his hood, "…How your father's note made no sense to us, that was infuriating."

* * *

When they arrived in Whiterun they had asked to speak with the Jarl, and had received an invitation for his audience that day. Before they went however, they sat in the middle of the field and Logvarine pulled out the note that his father had given him, the mission…

"Okay, let's see what it says…" said Logvarine, he pulled it out of its envelope and held it at face level, "What in the Hunting Grounds is this!"

_Empathies Ever_

_Heraldry Mottos_

_By any means possible_

_I believe in you…_

"I don't understand, that literally does not make any sense… at all…" he didn't understand what it meant at the time, and it caused him to question his father's sanity.

"Maybe it's in code?" said Erikaly, hoping to cheer him up, "I can try to decode it, it may take days of study though…"

"Fine," sighed Logvarine, "if it will give us a chance, then I will take it."

* * *

Logvarine laughed, "We were so stupid, we should have understood it a lot easier than we did," he laughed again, "When Erikaly found out that it was as simple as an 'Anagram' I was soooo mad, ha-ha!"

_Save the Empire_

_Destroy Thalmor_

_By any means possible_

_I believe in you…_

"I was so mad at myself," said Erikaly, "When I found out I was trying out code breakers that were far too complex."

"How long did it take you anyways?" asked Daneg

"…Two months." The whole room burst into laughter.

"Silence!" declared Logvarine, "I will not have my top code breaker mocked because she did what was logical!"

"It's okay Log'," said Erikaly, "They were just having some fun." Logvarine chuckled a bit.

"Sorry," he whispered, "Still getting used to the role of Leadership."

"What did he mean by that message anyways?" said Cavek who was sitting on one of the rafters with one leg over the side, he was admiring his blade.

"I believe he meant for us to get rid of the Thalmor influence in Skyrim, and to save the TRUE Empire…" everyone looked around quizzically.

"Even by destroying the current Empire?" said a random voice in the crowd that he could not pick out.

"We are destroying it from the inside-out, so we have nothing to fear if we do not get caught, the citizens of the empire will be safe."

"How do we know when to stop?" said another voice. Logvarine made a flame appear out of the palm of his left hand.

"When the White-Gold Concordat is but ashes at my feet…"


	3. Elven Mercy

"At least we are less barbaric than those Mongrel Thalmor Louts!" declared Logvarine as he sat upon his throne. Most of the resistance members had left the main hall and most likely went to sleep.

"We cannot treat them like anima—" Rytel was swiftly cut off.

"We shall show mercy if they deserve it, it proves we are better than them, they would not treat us so kindly; for the sake of the Divines I have taken former Thalmor agents under my wing…" he clutched the arm-rests with his pointed gauntlets and they scratched its surface. He departed from his throne to reveal a flowing black cape behind him, attached at the shoulders.

"The point is that the prisoner we have is being tortured nearly to death by the prison guards…" Logvarine turned his head in the direction of the dungeon, west.

"They do realize that I do not approve of torture in the usual sense, yes?"

"You use words to get what you need, friend." Logvarine did not like honorifics to be used on him, so all of his men called him 'Friend'.

"I shall visit them shortly, why did you not tell me this before our argument started?"

Rytel chuckled, "You were too busy arguing with me."

"…oh, right…"

They made their way to the dungeon through a twisting and confusing tunnel way, and when they arrived in that damp, dark dungeon the sight was horrible.

"Hey maybe we should cut his ears off, those elves are mighty proud of themselves for that." Said one of the guardsmen. The gruesome scene consisted of a naked Altmer man that was chained to a brick wall with blood all over his face and chest. "Or maybe something that every man's proud of hehehe."

"Would you cut off our ears as well?" spoke Logvarine in the most commanding voice he could muster. The first guardsman cowered beneath him, metaphorically. In reality he was merely standing in front of a naked man and sweating off pounds.

"N-N-No Friend of course not, w-we like your ears."

"And why not his ears?" spoke Rytel. The men struggled to think of an answer, but it was too late. Logvarine had a low tolerance for people who disregarded the feeling of others, and as a strongly opinionated man he acted on his opinions. He swiped his hand sideways to seemingly brush away his cape, but the guardsman flew through the air and bashed against the cage on the other side of the room, he fell to the ground writhing in pain as Logvarine turned to the other guard who was now cowering on the floor begging for mercy.

"Please Logvarine, w-w-w-we won't—" Logvarine grabbed the man by his neck and hoisted him into the air, pressing his back against the wall. On that same wall was the chained up elf, who looked up at the scene in amazement. The guard was gasping for breath while he was brought down to ground level by Logvarine, who still had him in his grip. He whispered in the man's ear.

"Your disregard for life makes me sick, do not make me disregard yours" he released the man who went over to his friend and helped him out of the room by the shoulder. Logvarine knelt down next to the shackled elf who was breathing very heavily, blood was everywhere and the man's eyes were swollen to being almost shut. Logvarine reached up and undid his shackles and as the man fell he caught him in his cold metal covered arms. The man wore only a loincloth; he looked weak and emancipated in Logvarine's large arms. "Get this man a warm meal, quickly." He ordered. When he wore this tone of voice Rytel knew not to argue and he ran out of the room. The man tried to reach up his arm to do something but it slowly fell back down. "Save your energy, you need it…"

"You… are a… saint…" he barely said. Rytel eventually arrived with a large meal and the elf was barely able to eat it. They put him in a cell

And went back off to the 'Throne Room'.

"That very nearly made me sick…" said Logvarine, "I want those two men brought before me tomorrow." Rytel crossed his arm and raised an eyebrow.

"What are you going to do to them?" Logvarine looked over his crossed fingers at him.

"I wish only to speak with them." He said.

* * *

Logvarine and Rytel departed to their own quarters and Logvarine was pleasantly surprised at what he saw, Catath'een was almost completely naked, but she was asleep on his bed. He took a good five minutes getting his armor off and got into bed, he did not wake her, instead he simply kissed her on the cheek and said: "Sleep well…" they all slept well that night, except for the two guardsman, for they knew that the next day would bring them even more pain.

* * *

"We are greatly sorry for the way we treated the prisoner, Logvarine!" the man, pleading, had his head against the floor bowing on his knees. The other guard was doing the same. "We ask for your forgiveness!" Logvarine stared at them for an eternity, his hand supporting his right cheek. He stood and walked over to them, slowly, suspensefuly, menacingly. The one on Logvarine's left was very nearly crying, he was quivering on the ground. The whole room was watching.

Logvarine knelt down and grabbed the man's chin, slowly raising it. "You are not to apologize to me," the man looked surprised, "You must apologize to him…" he pointed at the hallway to the dungeon and out walked the Altmer man, fully clothed in new clothes and a set of magical cuffs, he was being escorted by another guard. The guilty guardsman looked away.

"You cannot even look at him anymore can you, after what you have done?" mocked Logvarine. The other guardsman got himself to his feet and walked over to the Altmer. He slowly got on his knees, and said:

"I would like to apologize for my actions, my anger should not have been taken out on you…" the Altmer continued to stare at him, "Please forgive me."

"You are forgiven." He said. The man stayed on his knees as the Altmer was escorted away.

"You…" Logvarine pointed at the other guardsman who was still in front of him, cowering. "You will go for two nights without food, and you…" he pointed to the honorable guardsman, "…you shall go back to duty."

"Yes Logvarine." He said as he scurried away back to the dungeon. Logvarine sat back in his throne and sighed.

"You may go now." The man got up, bowed, and ran for his quarters. The room slowly went back to the usual, talking and socializing in the large entry hall leading up to his throne. Banners decorated the walls and the same logo on those banners was on the large rug in front of the stairs leading to the throne. The design depicted the White-Gold Tower on fire with blood stains running down its sides.

Logvarine stood up off of the throne and grabbed his glass of wine off of the side table beside his throne, he raised the glass and said, "Glory be to The White-Gold Vengeance! May our enemies be shown the error of their ways, in the name of the TRUE Empire!" there were cheers of agreement resounding throughout the room. Cat leaned still against Logvarine's throne and she whispered in his ear.

"Come to bed earlier tonight, alright?" Logvarine chuckled and then pulled down his mask, kissing her on the cheek.

* * *

"I will…"

4E 201, 3 years ago…

"You're going to join the Stormcloaks?" asked Saline. Logelaine was still shaken by the incident.

"Those imperial soldiers didn't believe me when I said who I was…" he winced at his arm; it had a large gash across it, "The Empire has abandoned me…" Saline was getting dressed behind a tree and he was on the opposite side of it staring away.

"I think I might join up too."

"But you're a High elf?"

"So?" she asked as she came out from behind the tree with new leather armor on, Logelaine was using magic to heal his arm.

"Neither of us will be getting a warm reception; I know that much…"

"I want to stop the fighting, I have to try." She said, Logelaine sighed and got up off of the ground.

"Well then we better get going…"


	4. Captain and Commandant

4E 204, present…

Em-Shei was but a shimmer in the air when he had his invisibility spell active, he could maintain it for a long time. Aboard the Thalmor ship he was hard to detect in the shadow of night. He went over to the side of the boat and saw an Altmer man in his black robes looking over the side of the Ship, so he went over to him, slowly. He heard the man sigh and go to leave, but he grabbed the man's mouth and slit his throat with a daedric dagger he had custom-made. He pushed the corpse over the side of the boat and ran back into the shadows.

"Did anyone else hear that?" asked one of the Altmer, he was silenced with an arrow in his back from Cavek who was up on the mast of the ship. All of the ship's crew that was on the deck at the time went into a very cautious state.

"Where is he?"

"Show yourself coward!" Em rematerialized behind one of them and pulled him into the shadows screaming before stabbing him through the neck.

"What in Oblivion was Tha—" but Cavek had jumped down off of the mast and impaled him with his sword. Another Altmer tried to attack him but he disappeared into the air.

"Where are you!" and then his question was answered with a sword to his back and through to his chest. He gasped for air and gurgled out blood as he fell to the deck.  
"There will be more coming," spoke Em-shei as he rematerialized in front of his friend, "I can smell them."

"Oh yeah…" said Cavek, "I forgot that you were a 'Were-Creature'." Em nodded his scaled head.

"Yes, enhanced smell and sight. It is a true blessing being a Were-Croc." They could hear the footsteps that made their way up the stairs from below deck.

"Get up there! We may have intruders!"

"Xuth!" swore the Argonian. Cavek ran and jumped on top of the room leading to the stairwell. Em waved his hands and disappeared into the darkness. The door burst open and they were all greeted with silence, and the scene of their bloody ship mates. Cavek notched two arrows at once and took a good 10 seconds getting the placement correct for the two hovering over the man he had just stabbed through the back. When he released you could hear the arrows cut through the silence and pierce the first man's neck and the other's head. The other elves looked over as their friends fell to the ground, only three were left. They readied their blades and went back to back; one was nearly in a panic.

"Where are YOU!?" another screamed in frustration. Everything was dead silent, save the sound of heavy breath, which was very visible in the cold of the northern night. Cavek and Em appeared from the shadows and stood in front of the three elves, all now facing the same direction, their swords reflected the moonlight. Both Em and Cavek had readied their long swords. One of the elves noticed their Darkbrotherhood armor and robes.

"What is your contract you night crawlers!?" Cavek cocked his head slightly and raised his eyebrow.

"Ooh, how informed we are, wouldn't you love to know?" he said chuckling. The elf ran at him screaming with blade in hand. Cavek dogged left and right, using one handed sword blocks to wade off the offender. As he was pushed back closer to the edge of the boat Cavek simply moved to the side as the elf lunged and he stabbed his sword through the man's back and threw him overboard. "Anyone else?" he asked. The elves split, one fighting Em and one fighting Cavek. Em found his opponent easy to avoid and countered his forward slash by stepping left and pushing the sword into the deck. Before the elf could realize his sword was stuck he pulled up, his hand slipped off of the handle and Em-shei stabbed the man in his chest, pushing his back down onto the blade with his left hand. The elf spat blood on Em's sleeve and started wheezing. Em-shei smiled his large reptilian smile, as his whole head began to change form, he was transforming into a were-crocodile. The man tried to scream but Em had punctured his lungs.

"_Hircine take you!_" Screamed Em in a demonic, grovelling voice. He opened his powerful jaws and bit down on the elves neck, taking out a good chunk of the man's flesh before throwing him to the ground. Em swallowed and then looked over to spot Cavek sucking on the other elf's neck, blood running down his arm. He released the man and he fell limp to the ground.

"Do you smell anyone else?" he said trying to talk around his large incisors coated in blood.

"_Yes…_" he said, transforming back. "None are hostile…"

"What will we do about them?" he asked. Em started waving his tail with anticipation.

"Get two life boats, we will give them a choice…"

* * *

After all of the non-militant crew members had been lined up forcibly by Cavek on deck, Em gave them a decision.

"If you wish to be free, and to live for a cause, then return with us on this boat." he waved his hand towards a boat off the side of the Galleon to the north attached by a rope; it had all of the ship's cargo in it. "Or…" he suggested, "you may go on this boat and ride back to Dawnstar. Decide now." The men and women looked very indecisive but the two robed men simply stood there waiting for a decision, not rushing at all. In the end only two decided to go back to Dawnstar, and they set out right away, the rest however decided to go with Cavek back to the mountain base.

"Why are you not coming Em?"

"Because," he spoke softly, a large grin on his face, "I still have a shipment to make…"

* * *

The Ship arrived in solitude on time that morning, but as the workers boarded the deck to grab the shipment they came upon a disturbing scene. The bodies of the dead Thalmor soldiers were hung upon the mast and on the deck drawn in blood was the Thalmor's symbol with flame coming off of it. The Argonian watched from the water as the terrified dock workers arrived on the scene, screaming. He savoured the moment and sunk back into the water, spreading his gills.

* * *

"What is this?" asked Logvarine as Em-Shei handed him a note he had gotten off of the boat, in the captain's quarters.

"I found it on his nightstand." He explained. "I know what it says; I have already opened it." Regardless of if it was open or not, Logvarine used his talon sharp gauntlet to sheer through the envelope and pull out the letter.

_Dear Captain Ralan,_

_I have in these boxes some cargo that is unlimitedly important in the complete takeover of the Aldmeri Dominion in Skyrim. These Imperial Legion bastards have been holding out on us for too long and our leaders are not pleased. These rations and weapons will be sufficient for the first month of battle as the Resistance in Skyrim is almost non-existent. Make sure that they arrive in Solitude by noon, do not fail us._

_Signed, Commandant A._

The room was completely silent as he read it aloud upon his throne. He set it down and held his head in his hands. "Dammit," he said softly, "They are already preparing…"

"They might not know of us yet?" Suggested Nivard, "There are many pockets of resistance in Skyrim." Logvarine looked up and sat up straight in seat.

"I suppose you could be right." He pondered. "Dygar?" he called and a large nord man with short blonde hair approached the throne in a set of steel armor.

"Yes Friend?"

"I need you to go to solitude and dig up whatever dirt you can on the Thalmor's currently employed officers."

"Of course, should be easy." He said that and not one word more as he left through the door leading into the cave, which led outside. Logvarine raised his glass to the man who had already left.

"Talos guide you." He Declared.

* * *

4E 201, three years ago…

"I don't like this tavern… too many people are looking at us weird." Whispered Logelaine to Saline who was sitting across the table from him. She set her mug of ale down on the table.

"We're two elves who are walking around in a nord city; these humans are not overly tolerant."

"I've noticed that…" he looked around 'The Bannered Mare' and saw at least five other patrons looking at them.

"Don't let them bother you." Spoke a nord dressed in Imperial armor standing right beside them, "We nords have had bad history with your people, hate like that breeds hatred in the next generation." Logelaine put his own mug down.

"How are you different?" he snarled.

"I have respect, those Stormcloaks in Windhelm have no respect for the elves or the beastmen, and they're savages."

"Well then," spoke Saline, "It's awkward that we're going to Windhelm soon." The man looked surprised.

"Why would you want to go to that Fascist city, do you know they have a ghetto in the city that the Dunmer are forced to live in? they call it, the 'Grey-Quarter'." Logelaine clenched his fist.

"Because we need to go there… I don't suppose you'd show us the way." The man looked shocked.

"As a matter of fact I will be going to deliver a message to Ulfric Stormcloak from the jarl, I wouldn't mind the company?" The two elves looked at each other and then back at the nord.

"What is your name?" asked Logelaine, the man put down his own mug and outstretched his arm.

"Name is Kagnor, pleasure to meet you!"


	5. Politeness

4E 201, three years ago…

"FUS!" the ground shook as he shouted the Dragon Language to the heavens; he flew back as he was unprepared for the forceful nature of his newfound power.

"Shor's bones, you ARE the Dragonborn!" shouted a guard who had just witnessed the fall of the dragon by Logvarine's hand.

"But why did only I get the power, you said you could still read the runes in the Burrow, right?" Nivard shook his head.

"Maybe he needs to kill another Dragon!" another guard said in excitement.

"It doesn't matter." Spoke the Jarl's dunmer Housecarl, "You need to report this to Jarl Balgruff right away."

* * *

4E 204, present day…

"I have a 'Lead' on that commandant fellow." Said Dygar as he walked through the door with a Thalmor prisoner in tow, gagged and cuffed. Logvarine rose from the throne and walked across the room towards the returning warrior. As he approached, Dygar grabbed the Elf by the neck and threw him to the ground in front of their leader. Everyone watched with great palpitation in their chests.

"Do not harass our guests, we need to show as much Politeness as—" the Altmer looked up from down on his knees and spat in Logvarine's face. Everyone gasped and held their breath as Logvarine wiped his face with his cape and put his mask up. The elf could hardly breathe, as he gasped in every breath through between his bloodied lips. Logvarine took off both of his gauntlets and as they hit the floor they disappeared into two blue portals.

"Release the prisoner from his cuffs…" he demanded.

"Bu—"

"Do it Dygar!" he demanded again. Dygar reached down and undid the elf's magical cuffs from behind his back. The elf collapsed on all fours; suddenly he sprang to life and shot flames from his hands, hitting Logvarine directly. He laughed manically as he spewed flames from his palms, and then he stopped; deprived of Magika. His eyes widened like the moons as he realized that his spell had done nothing. Logvarine stood there in his tattered cape and Daedra blessed armor… as his arm started to elongate and morph into the form of a wolf. The Altmer ran for the gate in a panic and was caught at the neck by a giant, hairy, clawed hand. His gigantic paw held the man high in the air before he slammed him against the wall, barely missing his allies. The man got up to run but was stopped in his tracks by Logvarine backhanding him with his claw. The elf now lay on the ground beside a column begging for mercy. Logvarine had only transformed one arm but his voice was still just as Demonic

"_Tell us what we want to know!_" he said looking down at his victim, "_And this WILL stop!_" he began to transform more.

"You… can go back to Morrowind and get fondled by your Daedra buddies, you slimy… Daedra loving—" he screamed in horror as Logvarine's wolf jowls had a hold on his hand. With one tug and bite he tore his hand off from the wrist… and ate it, spitting the bones out soon after. The Elf fell unconscious from the stress and horror of it all.

"Take him to the infirmary and get him outfitted with one of the 'Dwarven Arm' prototypes, he will be a test subject, and then put him in a cell." Logvarine sat down on his throne again. He raised his hands, palms up, and out of the same blue portals came his gauntlets, which he happily fitted back on. The Altmer man was being dragged by the collar into the infirmary, Logvarine could feel a pang of guilt for the man, he was following orders… but he knew the risks.

"Are you alright?" asked Cat dressed in her Nightingale armor. It's funny; the only one who didn't become an honorary Nightingale when she wanted to became an ACTUAL Nightingale. Logvarine reached back and grabbed her hand.

"The Hunt calls to me…" he said softly, "Hircine likes to see me do things like this, and I will oblige him for now."

"I understand how the calling feels love," she comforted, "but we use this power we are given for justice, not to feed the hunger." She reached to his neck that held a chain, a chain that held the 'Ring of Hircine' looped upon it, "We serve the Huntsman, as do we many divine beings." She reached up and touched his face with her fur covered hands, "We could… go 'serve' Dibella if you wanted?" Logvarine looked at her and smiled.

"You naughty Kitty…"

* * *

It was the middle of the night, as the clock said, but something didn't feel right. Logvarine never woke up in the night; he always slept a full night's sleep. He looked over to see Catath'een on the other side of the bed. The room was of Dwarven architecture, although thankfully not the bed; Dwemer used to sleep upon stone beds. He could hear soft steps on the stone floor and he could smell the scent of Altmer blood.

He grabbed his Dragon Bone sword from beside his nightstand, the sword he had named after 'Paarthurnax' after his brother had slayed the ancient dragon. He slowly stepped to the door and heard whispers; his ultra-sensitive hearing allowed him express access to their conversation.

"Are you sure you saw one of them go in here?" said one voice, characteristically Altmer.

"Positive." Said the other.

"Did you report it to an officer before we came here?"

"…No…"

"You idiot, what if we get—" Logvarine pushed open the dwarven door and hit the second assailant in the face, knocking him out cold. The other Altmer swung his sword in Logvarine's direction. He swung Paarthurnax toward the Altmer and the fire enchantment sliced through him like Scrib-Jelly, rending his chest from his abdomen, and then stabbing him through the face. Cat ran out with her Nightingale blade in hand; she was only wearing her undergarments.

"What in Aetherius and Oblivion is going on here." Logvarine noticed only now that he was only wearing his undergarments as well.

"It may take some explaining, get our robes and get back out here; I need help with the live one."

* * *

After they had gotten clothed and roused their friends from their own slumbers, they took the unconscious Altmer to the Interrogation chamber which consisted of a chair with straps for legs and arms, and two torch stances on the walls. They strapped the man into the chair and roused him from his own dream land.

"Who... who are you?" he asked, head bobbing back and forth. He had a black eye.

"I regret to inform you that your friend… is dead." Said Logvarine. The man looked confused.

"You… killed… Raslen?" he said, still dazed. Logvarine brushed his dark hair back, trying to think of a way to explain this.

"Yes, I am sorry." Was all he could think to say. "But I do not feel sorry for him, because he tried to kill me; I feel sorry for you and the predicament you have gotten yourself into."

"I… my head hurts… urk…" Logvarine could see how young he was now, not suited for battle, seventeen years old likely. Nivard, Cat, Rytel and Logvarine were the only ones in the room with their prisoner, all in their casual attire.

"Why do you fight for the Thalmor?" Logvarine asked arms crossed.

"W… w… what?" he stuttered.

"Give him the healing potion." Rytel walked up to the young man and poured the red liquid into his mouth, he swallowed and relaxed.

"You should be thinking clearer now. So, why do you fight for the Thalmor?" the man sighed and spoke.

"My father was in the dominion, and his father, I was forced into it," he took a breather and continued, "I didn't want to fight in this war, I was told I would be executed as a heretic if I did not…"

"What is your name, kit?" asked Cat.

"My… my name is Rauland…" he answered. Logvarine could see the innocence in his eyes.

"Do you want to go back?"

"Go… back?"

"Do you want to go back and be punished for messing up?" Logvarine made his point very blunt.

"…No, I don't." Logvarine undid the man's straps; he could hear the heavy breathing of the elf as he kneeled down to undo his legs.

"You will work for us now, I can see my organization in your future." Logvarine did not ask, he told the young man.

"What?"

"You can work for us, under my tutelage, or you can go back out into the wilds and be hunted by the Dominion. Make your decision now." The elven man looked astounded at the offer, and he could not make sense of the situation.

"Did you say… under your tutelage?" Logvarine nodded his head, "But I can't fight! I'm useless in a—"

"I will hone your skills to a razor sharp point, what were you taught when it comes to combat?"

"Just magic sir." Said Rauland.

"Do not call me sir, titles make my skin crawl. Tomorrow we will train you to master destruction magic."

"Understood…uuum?"

"Logvarine," he told him, "Welcome to The White-Gold Vengeance, Friend."


	6. Knowledge of The Dwarves

4E 201, three years ago…

Kagnor, Saline, and Logelaine were traveling east of Whiterun down a long dirt road, none of them had a horse and Logelaine lost his horse when he was captured by the Imperials. Their backs were tired and their Legs were sore.

"Can't you summon a Gods Damned horse or something?" asked Kagnor, Logelaine turned around at shook his head.

"Conjuration does not work like that."

"Bull, I've seen people summon horses before."

"Well we can't do that." Replied Saline, back turned. Kagnor crossed his arms and sighed.

"Well, I'm already used to walking like this so I'm not complaining." Logelaine scoffed.

"Well it sure sounds like it." They set upon the road to Windhelm; it was a long road, and a dangerous one. They were not even half way there when they were laid into by a group of bandits dressed in leather armor, not dissimilar in nature to Saline's.

"Oooh, some Imperial hound dogs to rob; what you got imps?" one asked, presumably the leader. Before Kagnor could answer Logelaine's shining silver sword had been placed between the man's ribs, and blood gushed everywhere. The bandits were not prepared for Logelaine's speed. Thrown off guard they were easy prey, Saline used a simple ice spike spell and her target was pinned to a tree, dead. Kagnor ran in and literally GRABBED his enemies axe, stopping it in its tracks as he sliced the man in his chest with his Imperial sword. He looked over as Logelaine threw his sword at another brigand, decapitating him. Logelaine then grabbed his close victim and plunged his fangs into his neck; the two others had a general look of horror on their faces. Saline ignored it for the moment and used a telekinesis spell to bring the last bandit closer to her, as she coated her hand in electricity and uppercutted the man. All of them were dead and Kagnor drew his sword on Logelaine.

"What in Mundus are you?" he said, sword hand shaking. Logelaine stared at him and threw his other sword on the ground, stepping away from it.

"I am not going to hurt you, I promise."

"Bull, I know that Vampires have enhanced strength, that trick won't work, plus you can seduce people with your _Dark Magic!_"

"I swear on the honor of Nerevar and the Nerevarine, on the Glory of the three Great Houses, and on Azura's grace." He retorted ceremonially with his hand to his heart. The other man started to lower his weapon, but kept it up. Saline came over and put her hand on his shoulder.

"He is sincere," she spoke to him, she put her other hand on his sword arm, "Azura has dominion over all Dunmer, he would not dare lie." Kagnor put his sword slowly back into its sheathe.

"Loot the bodies, we're leaving…"

* * *

4E 204, Present time…

A cape-less Logvarine was on his way to the Prison cells, with his new 'Apprentice' in tow.

"Um, sir—I mean Logvarine?" he asked worriedly. Logvarine walked with his hands holding one another behind his back; he turned to Rauland, "Where are we going?"

"We need to see how strong your stomach is, and if you are willing to see allies in pain and other horrible conditions." Rauland gulped.

"I don't like the sound of that…"

When they arrived in the dungeon they could see the Altmer that was being abused by the guards. He waved to Logvarine and he waved back. In the corner cell did lay the man with no hand, or safe to say a new hand. In place of his left hand was a strange Dwemer construct in the shade of a claw. The claw shone a light blue colour at the point where it connected to the elf's skin.

"How is your new hand?" Logvarine asked, "How does it feel?" the Altmer rolled off of his bed and got himself to his feet. He walked over to the bars of the cell and clasped the iron bar with his Dwarven talon.

"It is… responsive, it feeds on a small amount of my Magika to stay functioning… your engineers actually impress me…" he looked down at the ground, "…It was quite painful however." Logvarine took his hood down and leaned in closer to the Elf, looking into his eyes.

"I am sorry to hear that…"

"No you're not!" shouted the man. He looked genuinely enraged. "You ate my HAND!"

"You were disrespectful, I taught you a lesson." The Altmer slid down to his knees and let go of the bars, he looked down at his three pronged claw, it seemed truly alive.

"What do you want from me?" he finally asked without looking up.

"I would prefer you to join us, but we just need your co-operation."

"Pfft! Like I would join you; what do you have to offer?" Logvarine pointed down at the man's new 'Hand'.

"You are a man of Magic and Arcane knowledge correct?" he asked with an undertone of Impatience.

"So?"

"We could give you knowledge beyond your understanding, unlimited tomes of Dwemer science are at our disposal." The elf's eyes lit up.

"Really?"

"If you co-operate with—" the man gripped the bars.

"What do you wish to know!?"

* * *

"The knowledge we acquired from 'Golden Claw' over there seems to compile into a reliable source of information." reported Rytel. Logvarine was sprawled out on his throne informally.

"I think he will be a valuable asset…"

"His name is Baelen by the way." Added in Rytel.

"Thank you Rytel, I don't know what I'd do without you." Over in the corner of the room Logvarine could see Baelen reading through book after book that had been recovered from the nearby abandoned Dwemer city.

* * *

Later that day Baelen approached the throne in a new outfit than had been before, instead of his Thalmor robe he wore a blue one without a hood. He bowed before Logvarine, who was now greatly confused as well as his apprentice Rauland who stood behind him.

"I will not be going back to the dominion, I have decided to stay here, and help you win the war." Logvarine leaned forward skeptically.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" he asked the newly humble Altmer.

"The Thalmor promised me power and knowledge, I did not receive either in their service," he swept towards the door with his Dwarven left hand, "I had nothing out there, I had no love for their ways, but here I can be so much more, and I will serve under you if you will allow me the honor." Logvarine was genuinely surprised.

"First I wish to know more about this Commandant 'A' person." The Altmer slowly put his head down.

"I'm sorry to say that I do not know very much, but I will help." Logvarine let out a groan of impatience.

"I expected that you wouldn't know much…"

"But what I do know may be valuable." He retorted. Logvarine leaned closer again.

"Tell us."

* * *

"Then we will set out immediately." Declared Logvarine; standing up from his throne. "Nivard! You will be charged with the Vengeance's leadership in my stead."

"Eh, Why not?" he sat down on Logvarine's throne and made a very smug looking face, attempting to mock him. Logvarine shrugged it off.

"We have invaded the Thalmor Embassy before, but not with the express intention of assassination," he paced back and forth whilst addressing the crowd, "I will be taking five people with me on this particular venture, and they are: Catath'een, Cavek, Em-Shei, Rytel and Pak-eel." All of the people called made their way to stand beside Logvarine, including a yellow scaled Argonian man with two head-finns. Logvarine met Pak-eel at a tavern a few years back in Riften, he took him from the docks and trained him in stealth combat. He was around 19 years old now.

"I am honored that I have been chosen." He bowed respectfully. Everyone said their goodbyes before departing, but Logvarine simply whispered in Nivard's ear:

"Keep an eye on the new Thalmor deserters Niv', we can't trust them yet." Nivard nodded and gave him a firm hug. They departed later that day, at sundown. They exited the cave, making sure no one was near to see, they continued walking down the path, making their way towards Solitude. Their breath was visible in the snow covered fields, as well as another's breath. At the top of a tree to the east sat a man, a man with long flowing hair and a trim goatee sitting upon his grey face. He licked his fangs and whispered in a breath as cold as the grave:

"I've found you… finally."


	7. When Mercy is Not an Option

It took two days of travel by Horse to reach the forest beside the Thalmor Embassy, west of Solitude. They dismounted their horses and tied them to the trees a good mile away from their intended destination. They had hardly any resistance on their journey to Solitude and the scenery was beautiful this time of year, winter was cold but beautiful in Skyrim. As they arrived upon the target building; dressed in their normal gear but wearing black robes over top of their usual armor; the building in question was beautifully constructed from slabs of stone and fine metals, wooden roof and door. The group split and took position at the point they individually were given around the building. Cavek however was to go up to the front gate and convince the guard to let him in.

"You say that the Ambassador is expecting you… um?"

"Cavek, my name is Cavek." The gold skinned elf turned to open the gate, but as soon as the key was in the lock he had a knife in his back and a hand to his mouth. Cavek departed with the body by the stables. Em-Shei entered with him, planning to gain the attention of the front door guards. Three guards in elven armor approached the two of them angrily.

"Where is the front guardsman? How did you get in!?" the center one asked. Cavek put his hands up.

"Whoa, Whoa! He let us in, we need to see the Ambassador."

"Yes but where did he… and you had the NERVE to bring a filthy _lizard_ in here!" he pointed. Em ignored his remark and snapped his fingers. Three arrows flew from all different directions and the men groaned, falling to the ground. Em-Shei spit on their corpses. Rytel jumped over the stone wall into the yard and Logvarine appeared in front of them from nothing, leaving black tendrils of smoke in his wake, he was holding Cat in his arms.

"Pak-eel is on the other side, let's get inside." Stated Logvarine. He knew Pak-eel could handle himself, and he was right because a few seconds later he appeared from the back gate.

"I will go through the window up there." He pointed just below the snow covered roof to the top floor window. Logvarine pulled Paarthurnax from his sheath and as he let its tip touch the ground the snow around it melted.

"Nerevar guide us." Rytel, Catath'een, and Logvarine burst through the front door in their black robes, hoods up. The room had five soldiers in it and a servant, a Wood elf.

"What are you doing in here!?" asked a guard as he drew his sword from its scabbard. The room was tense and the servant boy looked absolutely terrified. The other guards got out of their own seats and drew their swords as well. The room was silent for a few moments and then Logvarine broke the quiet.

"Tell us where the Commandant is and you will live." The guards laughed at him, the head guard approached him and tapped his chest with his finger.

"You are going to die horribly, all of you!" he went to swing his sword down in a chopping motion but was stopped by Paarthurnax. Rytel broke around Logvarine and kicked the man in the face, he fell to the ground groaning. Logvarine picked him up with both hands and threw him against a nearby column. Cat whipped out her own Daedric dagger and jumped a good five meters onto a guard, breaking his neck with her legs, she then turned and slit another's throat. Rytel stabbed one through the heart with his glass sword after a quick parry, but he couldn't find the fifth one. The fifth guard was running toward Logvarine with two daggers in hand; Logvarine held out his left hand and suddenly a Staff with the head of a dragon appeared out of a blue portal directly into his left hand. He swung around and blocked both of the man's attacks. As the elf continued attacking again and again ruthlessly he would fail each and every time. Finally after blocking many of his attacks, Logvarine whipped around and watched the tired elf stumble into the wall. As he tried to recover he was met with a giant cone of flame from the head of the staff. He screamed as his skin burned and he fell dead. Logvarine looked down at his lifeless burning corpse and frowned through his mask, all of these men could have been so much more than this. They were dead now though, so that didn't matter. He looked at the still paralyzed Bosmer man.

"Leave." He said and the wood elf ran out the front door.

"What now?" asked Cavek as he coming through the door and nudging one of the bodies with his boot.

"We're going to find the Commandant and kill him, no interrogation, no prison, no mercy…" he turned to face the others, "We are going to end this today." The plan was to split up around the embassy and find some clue of whom or where the commandant might be, so they split up. Rytel went to look for Pak while Logvarine and Cat took the cellar and Cavek and Em took the ground floor.

"Where do you think he really is?" asked Cat.

"When I was last here, "said Logvarine, "there was an expansive network of tunnels running throughout the earth underneath this building, I'm guessing he's down there somewhere." They continued through the building until they found stairs leading down into the cellar, as they quietly made their way down the tunnels Logvarine was sticking something to the walls of the tunnels, explosives. It was Catath'een's plan to burn down the embassy and they had already started a fire upstairs inadvertently so why not finish it. The explosives were connected magically so wires and fuses were not required. As they arrived deeper into the tunnels they found it mostly abandoned so Logvarine set up explosives everywhere he could.

"The rest will go upstairs." He said. They continued into the tunnels and found two guards by a door. Without a word the couple sprang into action. Cat threw her dragon bone dagger into one elf's throat and he died choking on his own blood. Logvarine impaled his target against the wooden wall with his dragon sword, unfortunately he let out a cry of agony before he expired and three men burst through the door. The first man through was greeted with a slash to his abdomen and an uppercut from the dark elf and the second one was pounced upon by the Khajiit woman with a nightingale blade through his chest. Logvarine grabbed the third one by the neck and threw him against the wall with such force that he was knocked unconscious instantly. The room had one remaining occupant, a tall High elf man with fair golden skin and long silver-blonde hair, they could only assume it to be one person and that was the commandant. Logvarine with a staff on his back and a sword in his hand approached the man who was sitting in a finely stitched chair made of expensive materials in front of a matching desk. He clapped at Logvarine.

"Good that you could make it Mr. Grey, you see that's what we call you," he said, "Since we don't know your name we thought it was suitable…" Logvarine was not in the mood for niceties.

"Commandant A. you will not leave here." He declared, head held high. There was no other visible exit except for the single door at Logvarine's back, the elf would have to fight to be free of his aggressors.

"Oh, so you know of me," he said sarcastically, "my name is Andalin and the pleasure is all mine." He flipped his desk and threw a fireball at Logvarine, who deflected it with ease.

"Cat, get the explosives set up and get out." Cat knew not to argue with him and she left hesitantly. "Why are you hiding down here Andalin? Were you expecting us?" he said whilst charging a fireball in his left hand. Andalin appeared out from behind the over turned desk with an elven sword in hand.

"I always have a contingency plan!" he roared as he threw another fireball at Logvarine, barely missing his head as he dodged to the side. He stepped forward slowly with a flaming ball sitting in his left palm.

"I am going to kill you, you shall not leave." He said assure of this fact. The high elf reappeared from behind the desk again, he still held the sword in hand.

"You are so sure?" he said as he stepped on the side of the desk to use as a lift into the air as he lunged towards Logvarine. The Dunmer put his sword up as his assailant slashed his sword down at his chest, deflecting it with ease and pushing him back as he let his spell free from his grasp. Andalin easily avoided the blast of fire and moved to the side to slash on Logvarine's right side. Before the blade could make contact Logvarine moved his left arm over his right and a Dragon bone dagger appeared, named after the Dragon 'Durnehviir' with the ability to sap it's foes strength. He turned the dagger downward and effortlessly blocked Andalin's attack; he pushed his aggressor back and backed up through the sole door, into the corridor. Made of earth and wood, it was not an ideal battleground, but Logvarine could adapt. Andalin followed soon after dressed in his black Thalmor robe and two swords in his hands. He struck the two swords against one another and then rubbed the bladed edges together, creating an electrical charge, they must have been enchanted.

"I hope you have said your fair wells, because you're not going anywhere!" he said.

* * *

The dark goateed man stood over the body of Pak-eel in front of the gates to the embassy. He wore the garb of the Vulkihar royalty, a renowned vampire clan In Skyrim, and he held an old tattered katana in his right hand as it leaked a lingering red essence that dispersed through the air like smoke. Em-shei stood in front of him gripping his right arm as crimson stained his scales.

"How… why are you still alive...?" asked the Argonian man as he winced and shivered. The Dunmer raised his sword towards his mouth and licked the blade clean of Pak-eel's blood.

"I guess we vampires truly are immortal." He grinned and held his sword out, "In all seriousness however, it is quite the tale."

"I wish not to hear it!" shouted Rytel as he stood atop the roof of the stables, Arrow notched in his bow.

"Ah, Rytel! How long has it been?" said the man shrugging his arms.

"Don't try to play friendly!" angrily replied Rytel, "Logelaine!"


	8. Reuinions and Revelations

Clash of metal and bone rang out through the tunnels under the embassy, electricity and fire flung in different directions as the two men's swords clashed against one another. Logvarine was continuously blocking his attacks, as was he doing the same for his; however both of them were getting tired and the fight had been going on for at least 4 minutes. Logvarine parried and pushed Andalin back towards the wall, they stared at each other for an eternity taking in their breaths graciously and they could hear each other's heavy breathing even as the tunnel's supports began to burn and give way. They could hear the tunnel beginning to collapse behind them as they made their way up to the surface still fighting. Whirling back and forth and slashing at one another they advanced up to the mansion and began inadvertently tearing the walls to shreds as they tried to hit one another with their attacks. Explosives were lined up and down the hall. Finally Andalin made a fatal mistake, as his foot touched down on the ground again he slipped and fell on his back. Logvarine stabbed Paarthurnax into the elf's chest and kneeled down, exhausted. The man gasped for air but found none for him to use. Logvarine placed his hand on Andalin's head.

"This… won't stop… them…" he wheezed out. Logvarine began charging his Magika.

"It will still stop you however." And he released an electrical charge into Andalin's head. As he screamed his lungs dry and electricity ran through his limbs he held not a single grain of regret. The body fell limp and Logvarine fell back, sword in hand. He sat there for a minute and then heard.

"Don't try to play friendly!" he heard Rytel say from outside, "Logelaine!" Logvarine immediately scrambled to his feet and ran to the door. In the courtyard Cavek and Cat were hiding behind the wall beside the gate, and on top of the stable he saw Rytel with an arrow notched in his bow. The body of Pak-eel was lying on the ground with a man standing over it, Logelaine. Em-Shei sat on his knees a few meters from Logelaine, he was holding his arm.

"Brother!" Logelaine pronounced joyously with his hands outstretched in surprise. Logvarine did not look as pleased, but he was surprised, more so even. How could he be alive after what had happened.

"I... am going… to kill you!" groaned Em from his knees.

"Tsk, Tsk, hush little lizard, the grown-ups are talking." Mocked Logelaine. Logvarine started to run forward towards Pak's body but stopped once he reached Em. He pressed his hand to the Argonian's bleeding arm and his hand started to glow.

"I am going to kill you before Em gets the chance." He snarled. Logelaine made a look of genuine hurt and put his hand against his head leaning back.

"Oh! Woe is me, my own brother hath banished me from his memories!" he began to laugh uncontrollably, "I beseech you Logvarine to forgive me!"

"You tried to kill Cat! I will NEVER forgive you!" Logelaine stopped with the theatrics now and sat down on Pak's body.

"Meh," he shrugged, "it was worth a try I guess." Logvarine couldn't take it anymore and he lunged at his brother with Paarthurnax leading the way. Logelaine jumped a good ten metres upwards and behind his brother, being a vampire had many benefits. Logvarine made a smile like razors and turned towards his brother.

"_FUS RO DAH!_" he shouted. His companions ducked for cover, Logelaine however had no time to prepare and the shout hit him with the full force of the Dragon as the ground shook like an earthquake. He went flying into the railings that stood right before the front door to the embassy, crashing right through them and bending the metal; he flew through the front door and landed on Andalin's body. Confused he got up and a sharp pain raced through his back. Logelaine looked over to his side and realized the threat of the explosives. He hobbled for cover under one of the guard's bodies.

"This ends now…" said Logvarine. He snapped his fingers and explosions echoed through the area, getting louder and louder, until finally the embassy itself was flaming rubble. "Cat… I…" Catath'een raced over to him and held his arm.

"Yes, what is it? Are you alright?" Logvarine made like he was going to say something, but his eyes began to flutter and he moaned as he fell hard onto the soft snow. "Log'!" the voice was getting farther away, his hearing was just as useless as his sight now. "_…Log'..._" "_...L…o…g'…._"

* * *

From out of the darkness came fond memories of his life, training with his father, Playing with Nivard and Rytel in the courtyard, casting his first spell… meeting Cat… falling in love with her, their first kiss, her caress in the moon light of Masser and Secondus, the warmth of her silver fur on his dark rough skin, her blue eyes staring into his fiery red ones; he realized now that he was living for one person, her. He fought so passionately for her favor, against some of the finest Khajiit mates in all of Tamriel… and she chose a Dunmer. Many people were disgusted at it, he didn't care, not then and not now even at what seemed to be the end of a life not yet completed.

"What a life…" said a gruff voice. Logvarine turned to see a Dunmer man with a long white beard and longer white hair in an even whiter robe. He seemed so… familiar.

"Who are you?" Logvarine questioned. They stood there in the purple and blue void as the Dunmer walked closer to him. Logvarine noticed now that he was wearing a set of black robes instead of his armor. The man stood a foot away from him with his arms crossed.

"I am what you should aspire to be…" Logvarine looked confused, "Remember the epic tales your father would recall to you of 'The Hero of Kvatch'?" Logvarine's eyes lit up with amazement.

"…Grandfather?" he whispered.

"There you go!" he smiled at Logvarine, "You make an old Arch-mage proud and a General too, HA! That's an accomplishment." Logvarine smiled back at him and laughed, holding his head as if he was going to go crazy.

"How… where are we?"

"We are in between the realms of Mundus and Aetherius, the gods have allowed me to converse with you." He answered. Logvarine still could not fully grasp the situation.

"Now, did you take your father's name, or your mother's?" Logvarine looked ashamed to say it.

"Um… I took my mother's name, 'Jesh'." Logsharn smiled.

"Good," Logvarine looked surprised, "The Family lines of the Great Houses need to die, to start anew, besides, 'Logvarine Jesh' has a nice ring to it!" he laughed. Logvarine laughed too, overjoyed that he actually got to meet his Life-Long hero.

"What did you need to see me for?" asked Logvarine. Logsharn scoffed.

"Can't a dead grandfather summon his own grandson to the netherworld anymore!?" he chuckled and then cleared his throat, "But no, this is about your cause. The destruction of the Thalmor will not come quickly." Logvarine clapped his hands together.

"You have a way to help me?!" he asked. Logsharn Smiled at him and giggled a little bit to himself.

"In a way I suppose. The Thalmor's total destruction will take many years… so within the next year you will be given two gifts." Logvarine stood there poker faced.

"What kind of gifts?"

"Gifts of love and of Mara's Grace… You will be given," he spoke, "Two children…" Logvarine now had a genuine look of uncertainty and confusion etched upon his face.

"…What?"

"Two children, one boy and one girl, they will be Dragonborn as you are. You must train them to be a reckoning force against the Dominion and devise their downfall with the help of your Family and Friends."

"Did you have to be so specific in the description of my 'Mission'?" he asked his elder.

"Dramatic effect." He said smiling, "As I'm sure you know… I like going out with a bang!" he let out a long hardy laugh and Logvarine joined in.

"It was great to meet you Grandpa." he said feeling somewhat like a child.

"And I you." He replied. "Now… go with the blessings of the Eight and One." He placed his hand on Logvarine's shoulder. Suddenly his black robe started to turn white from his Elder's touch and as it spread throughout the rest of his robe he felt power coursing through his body; finally when his robe was fully white a bright light appeared and he could not see…


	9. Mara's Blessing

"Oh thank the Divines!" shouted a familiar voice, Rytel's. "He's alive!" he could hear the sounds of footsteps now and of hushed concern and cries of joy. He could not see yet, but he could feel the warm embrace of someone, someone with warm fur and she was breathing more heavily than ever.

"I… I thought I had lost you…" she held back her tears.

"I'm okay…" he said, his vision had not returned still. "Everyone leave, we need to talk. Alone." The crowd dispersed and gradually left. Catath'een would not let go of him as he lay on his bed, things were starting to become visible. "What happened to me?" he asked her.

"You passed out from exhaustion, we took you back here and when you didn't wake up…" she held back her tears again.

"Stop it, you're stronger than this…" she sniffed.

"I know." Things were almost clear now.

"I… I met my grandfather on the other side…" he said awkwardly not sure how to explain it.

"What?"

"He told me he was proud, and he also told me some other things…" he was not sure if he should say what, however. He could see her face now, and her blue eyes.

"What other things?" she asked. His mind was bouncing around.

"Nothing, just some personal things…" he lied. Cat got closer to him and sighed.

"Well I have something to tell you." She said. Logvarine turned to her.

"Well, what is it." You could hear a pin drop.

"I'm Pregnant…" she smiled a wide toothy smile. Logvarine couldn't help but well up with joy, Logsharn had been telling the truth. He burst into joyful laughter.

"That is the best news I have heard in an eternity!" he chuckled. "How did you find out?" she motioned toward her gut and sat up.

"When the Restoration mages were checking me for internal injuries they found that I had two kits inside of me, one boy and one girl." She couldn't help but continue to smile.

"That's… that's amazing!" he said grabbing her arms. "I have scarcely been this happy." They embraced for what seemed like forever, Logvarine eventually asked. "Do they know if they are Dunmer or Khajiit?"

"Yes… the Boy is definitely a Khajiit, and the girl is most likely a Dunmer." She fell back into his arms, sniffling.

"I will not let any harm come to you or our children." Whispered Logvarine, "I swear it!" She looked up at him.

"But I must continue to Fight—"

"You shall do no such thing!" he ordered, "We cannot allow this blessing to be for naught. I'm sure you can understand?" silence took hold of the room.

"…I understand, I realize I would be putting them in great danger." Logvarine tilted his head down and kissed her on the head.

"I'm sorry…"

"Do not be," she reassured, "I will take on this responsibility." They fell asleep there, and did not wake up until the next morning…

* * *

They awoke that morning and Logvarine adorned his Armor once again, gifted to him by Boethiah himself. He attached his cape at the shoulders and pulled his hood up, Hand in Hand the couple walked to the Throne room.

"Shall we tell them?" she asked.

"No," answered Logvarine, "Only the most trusted so that they may protect you as well." As they opened the door to the 'Throne room' everyone turned to them and gave hoots and applause to their seemingly invincible leader and his lover. He sat down in his throne and kissed Cat's hand, he then declared:

"May we feast and remember those fallen! And bless those still with us!" everyone gave cheer and began to celebrate with as much happiness as humanly possible, lutes and drums played as everyone danced and ate, sometimes all at once. Nivard received a whisper in his ear from Logvarine and nodded looking at Cat and then back at Logvarine, he had an astounded look upon his face and he gave a giant bear hug to Cat, almost squashing her. Em and Cavek were sitting at a nearby table, Em's arm was in a sling and Cavek had a black eye that was almost swollen shut. Erikaly and Daneg sat at another table, she in his lap, flirting like two school children. Rytel approached the throne and Logvarine revealed his secret to him as well, he reached over to feel Catath'een's tummy and let out a hardy laugh from his lungs. Then the mood became a bit more depressing.

"Did… did P…" Logvarine did not want to ask, "Did Pak-eel make it?" the three others lowered their heads and did not speak. "…I see." They stood there in the middle of the entire ruckus, and mourned. A high elf boy ran up to Logvarine and bowed.

"Logvarine!" said Rauland still dressed in robes. "I have been so worried, the men wouldn't tell me where you had gone and… and… and—" he was cut off by Logvarine.

"I am fine, we have simply devastated the forces of the Aldmeri Dominion in Skyrim," he stated, "and now we have a chance to strike at their heart."

* * *

The sound of rubble cracking and shifting on top of another resounded throughout the area.

"_ARRRRRRRRGHHHH!_" Screamed Logelaine as he busted through the remains of the Embassy and stone flew in all directions. The ground shook from the power of his _Thu'um_, and he wasn't even speaking the dragon language. He breathed heavily as he shrugged rubble and dust off of his shoulders, his cape was very tattered and torn now from the power of his brother's voice mainly, and the explosions did not help. A woman approached the scene with a man in tow, she was a High elf, and he was a Nord. They were both dressed in full ebony armor and it reflected the morning sun intensely as it rose to their right.

"Are you okay Logelaine!?" hollered Saline as she ran over to attend to Logelaine, he shrugged off her touch and looked to the east, the sun's presence made him squint his yellow and red eyes. He was enraged.

"I am going to end this Logvarine… _NOT YOU!_" the ground began to shake again and Saline covered her ears.

"I'm guessing that your plan didn't go swell?" asked Kagnor sarcastically.

"If you were anyone else…" pointed Logelaine, "You would be dead for that remark." Kagnor just laughed at him. Saline picked up her friend by the shoulder and they began to hobble away from the wreckage of the once grand Thalmor Embassy.

"What are we going to do now?" asked Saline. Logelaine could barely move and he wheezed his breaths in and out.

"Deliver revenge upon the Vengeance!" he snarled…

END OF ACT 1…


	10. Tough Love

Act 2

Rauland sat at a desk in Logvarine's personal training quarters flipping through old tomes of Destruction magic, learning spells as best he could before he would even cast them. Logvarine sat across the room in his usual Ebony mail and daedric armor; looking at his hands as he juggled a fireball between them. He looked up only ever so often to make sure that his apprentice was doing his studying; he said that he was going to make him into a Master Warlock and Destruction Mage, and he meant that. The curriculum was strict, but no punishment was given for failure as Logvarine was a firm believer in positive reinforcement. All in all Rauland had nothing to fear from his mentor as long as he did his work and was consistent in his efforts. As the Arch-mage of the college of Winterhold Logvarine's standards were high, but not unobtainable. Logvarine felt like he had a legacy to live up to, standards that had been set by his ancestors; ancestry was always an important part of Dunmeri culture even if most of his beliefs stemmed from Nordic tradition. Today he brought his skooma pipe into the room and hid it under the chair before Rauland's lessons had started. Half way into his reading Logvarine carefully pulled out the pipe and used the fireball he already had in his left hand to heat the bowl of skooma. He didn't account for the bubbling sound however and it echoed throughout the room; his apprentice turned to face him.

"_Don't mind me…_" he said still holding in his breath. Rauland appeared genuinely shocked to see him exhale the smoke and continue like it was nothing.

"You smoke… Skooma?" he asked.

"Yeah, dark elves are more resistant to its effects than the other races." He went back to inhaling and exhaling the smoke.

"That stuff kills you!" exclaimed Rauland with his hands in the air. Logvarine just laughed.

"Not when you are a master of restoration magic!" he let out a long stream of smoke from his mouth and set the pipe down. He went back to throwing around a fireball. Rauland sighed and went back to his studies. After days of long study over and over through the same spell books and same ancient texts, Logvarine finally arrived at the more practical training.

"Okay, now we're going to cast a basic spell." He led his hand up at the stone wall and a giant cone of flame burst forward, scorching the stone. "You see, this doesn't require much Magika and it is fairly easy to do." Rauland crossed his arms.

"I know how to use flames, what about something more complicated?" Logvarine held out his hand and flames began to radiate from his palm, the licks of flame twirled around one another until it became a swirling ball of pure fire.

"Try to focus your fire magic into a single area, and then it should eventually begin to form into a sphere." Rauland held out his hand in the same fashion as Logvarine and flames began to appear from his palm as well. "Good, keep focusing it." Rauland continued to focus his energy into his hand; his finger twitched and suddenly the fireball exploded sending him flying against the wall and knocking the wind straight out of his lungs. Logvarine shook his head and lowered it; he eventually walked over and helped the boy up to his feet.

"I'm sorry…" said Rauland.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, you failed and you will learn from that; try again." For hours the two of them trained, failing and succeeding seemingly at random, but after a while he began to grasp the true power behind the magic that he wielded. Incandescent ripples of fire lit up the room far after the torches had burned down to nothing; a consequence of the shockwaves created by numerous explosions. Rauland stood in the center of the room, gasping for breath with a ball of fire in each hand. His originally clean and untarnished robes were now charred and at parts had completely burnt down to his skin. As an Altmer his skin was sensitive to magic, and his skin received harsh burns from the repetitive, continuous training. He screamed as he hurled the balls at the wall on the opposite side of the room; the room was covered in ashes and Logvarine felt at home in it, it reminded him of his trip to Morrowind. Vvardenfel was nothing but ash now, and when his ship had arrived there he couldn't help but feel a bit saddened that he was never able to witness its former beauty. He wanted to kick off his boots and feel the warm ashes between his toes and on the soles of his worn feet. When he snapped back to reality Rauland was on his hands and knees cursing in Aldmeri. "Are you alright?" asked Logvarine.

"Yeah…" he replied, "I'll *Cough* live…"

"I don't feel so certain of that, come to the infirmary." Logvarine leaned down and picked up the boy by his shoulder; half the time he was slipping in and out of consciousness and by the time he was laying down on a bed in the med bay he was already asleep. Rytel was at the alchemy table making a healing potion for one of their wounded; he turned around.

"Moon and Star! He looks terrible!" he looked at Logvarine in a scornful matter, "What did you do to him!?"

"He did it to himself, literally." Logvarine bent down over the bed and took off his gauntlets, he placed his hand on the boy's chest and a yellow aura began to glow from his wound there. "This may take some time, even for me." He placed another hand on Rauland's arm and began to heal that as well. "After you're done with our friend over there can you cook up something for the boy?" Rytel looked over and scoffed at him.

"Wouldn't be much of a friend if I refused…"

* * *

"How goes the training?" asked Nivard who sat at a table by the entrance to the mess-hall, the room was lined with at least 20 rectangular tables made of stone; the Dwemer really liked their stone.

"It's fine…" answered Logvarine as he entered the room and looked around surveying who was still around. He noticed a guard who was supposed to be on duty. "One second…" Logvarine picked a knife up off of the table and threw it across the room, it narrowly missed the man and landed on the table in front of him. The lazy guard obviously knew what he had done wrong because he grabbed his equipment off of the floor and left his friends at the table to stare at the knife. Logvarine paid them no more attention as he sat down across from Nivard. He could hear the footsteps as they got up to leave.

"I've heard otherwise." Remarked the nord as he swilled a pint of ale down his gullet. Logvarine laughed a bit from underneath his mask.

"We've only just begun, you need to give him a chance," he retorted, "besides, we had been going at it for hours and he was better than I thought he would be."

"Fair enough…" replied Nivard as he slammed one tankard down and grabbed another.

"So… what are you trying to forget Frost-Face?" Asked Logvarine. The nord put down his mug and let out a large belch.

"A lot of things Gray-Skin." the both of them laughed.

"We do have a lot of things to forget don't we…" said Logvarine.

"Like Logelaine?"

"Yeah, like Logelaine..."

* * *

"Gods Dammit!" Cursed Logelaine as he slammed his fist against a stone column in his residence of Vulkihar Castle, it cracked and almost gave way. Almost all of the previous vampire residents of the castle were killed in the Dawn-Guard raid in an attempt to retrieve Auriel's Bow, Logelaine had almost died that day. He saw oblivion, and Molag Bal pulling him ever closer to his realm, but then escaped his grasp before he could be consumed. All of the survivors of the Dawn-Guard's raid went their own separate ways and now the castle belonged to him and his only two friends.

"Please, settle down so I may heal your wounds." Saline kindly told Logelaine. He finally decided that it might be best and sat down at a nearby table.

"You're in rough shape," pointed out Kagnor "and all of this because of a sibling rivalry?" Logelaine glared at him with wild eyes.

"It is more than that, his little organization has gotten in the way of so much…" he felt like he was going to have a panic attack; his chest was heavy and his head burned like the bowels of Red Mountain. "The Dawn-Guard has his support and they KNOW that he accepts vampires into his ranks!" Saline was getting concerned that he could flip out and mess up her stitches.

"Stay calm, and Kagnor… shut your face!" Kagnor made a face of feigned pain.

"I know that he could kill me in an instant, but I've grown on him, he can't live without me." Logelaine laughed a hardy laugh followed by a very deep cough.

"It's true…" he tried laughing again but all that came was wheezing.

"Don't push yourself," said Kagnor in his shining black armor, "just take it easy."

"He's right Logelaine, you need to rest." Agreed Saline. Logelaine coughed again and turned towards her, their faces were an inch away.

"Only if you'll rest with me."

"You know it." They both smiled and engaged in a kiss. Kagnor saw an obvious opportunity.

"Get a room." He laughed, "Man, I've always wanted to say that." They ignored his remark. It seemed like the only thing that could subside his anger, rage, pain and blood-lust was Saline. Ever since they met in the forest he could tell that something was special about her. And he remembered fondly of when they had first arrived in WindHelm…


	11. A Mission

4E 201, three years ago…

"Here we are." Said Kagnor as they approached the bridge into Windhelm. The city itself looked ancient dating back at least to the first era, the stone was falling apart in places but it largely remained intact. The bridge was in the same condition.

"Look…" said Logelaine, "I'm sorry about earlier, I should have told you what I was." Kagnor turned to look at him.

"You were afraid of our reaction, I understand… just be more open in the future." He said. Logelaine nodded his head and Kagnor ushered them towards the giant gate into the city.

"Halt!" said one of the Stormcloak guards; he had a very thick Nordic accent. "Why does an Imperial soldier come to Windhelm?"

"I have a message from Jarl Balgruuf the Greater for Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak." He pointed to the axe on his back and the guard appeared as if he knew exactly what he was talking about.

"You three can go in…" he said as he and his friend began opening the door, "Mind yourself." The tall wooden gates opened up to a stone city covered in snow, the torches on every wall were flickering violently from the strong northern winds. Beggars sat in the streets and as they spotted the three they held their dirty palms skyward; Logelaine stopped and reached into his pack to pull out a coin purse, he grabbed a handful of coins and threw it on the ground. The beggars swarmed the gold like rats to garbage, it was a sad sight.

"This city is in poor condition, I'm not so sure about the Stormcloaks initiative anymore…" Logelaine said. Kagnor stopped in his tracks and turned to him.

"You were thinking of joining the Stormcloaks!?" he pointed at Logelaine.

"For a bit yeah… but this is just sad." Kagnor put his finger down.

"Exactly! Ulfric lives good while everyone else suffers." He wheeled around and continued towards the palace. "We have to stop him."

Saline and Logelaine sat outside the Palace of the Kings while they waited for Kagnor to be finished with his meeting. Every nord who passed by them gave them a look that could shatter ice, all of them were Racists to be sure. Logelaine was passing a ball of Magical ice back and forth in his hands.

"When is he going to be done?" said Saline, Logelaine dodged the question.

"Are you still going to join the Rebels?" he asked her.

"Probably not…" she answered, "These nords don't appreciate us, what did I ever do to them?" Logelaine didn't know how exactly to answer that question. The gates to the palace opened and Kagnor came out, the axe was still on his back and he had a look of rage about him.

"How did it go?" asked Logelaine, the nord just looked at him for a bit and then took off his helmet and threw it to the ground.

"Not well, Ulfric didn't accept the axe… and he convinced me that this isn't a war worth fighting."

"What are you talking about?" said Saline as she went to stand up.

"He tried to convince me to fight for them… that didn't work but he still opened my eyes to so much." He answered her.

"What now?" said Logelaine to the nord. Kagnor turned his head towards them and exhaled.

"What are you two going to do, where are you going to go?" he asked them. They stood there for a bit, unable to answer an impossible question. "…Is there room for one more?" Logelaine looked surprised.

"Um… yeah I guess. Is that okay with you Saline?" she nodded her head.

"Thanks, I'm going to go to the tavern and hire a courier to bring this axe back to Jarl Balgruuf, meet me by the stables outside the city."

"Do you have a place we can go to?" asked Saline, the nord smiled.

"One…"

* * *

4E 204, present…

Logvarine sat in his room with Cat beside him on the couch they had made out of mammoth hide. Rytel and Nivard sat in chairs across from them. The room was dully lighted by four torches on the stone walls.

"How do we keep this a secret?" asked Rytel, "It will be nearly impossible in the later stages of her pregnancy." Nivard was rubbing his chin stubble.

"I agree; it will be a great challenge and not a fun challenge either." Logvarine knew this already, so he ignored them.

"We only need to hide it for the first few months, after that we can have her guarded… I have too many enemies to leave her unprotected." Cat knew this was true but at the same time she wanted to help fight the Thalmor. Rytel exhaled and then held his head in his hands.

"I suppose it's not impossible to do…" he said, "but we must be alert at all times." Nivard interjected.

"On a slightly related note," said Nivard, "Are you sure you can trust your new apprentice?" Logvarine waved away his concern.

"I know I can trust him, I would have sensed his traitorous thoughts long ago." Logvarine continued still, "I would even trust him with Cat's life once he is done his training." Catath'een even looked surprised.

"Really?" she said.

"Yes, he is a good student and he has a legitimate reason to hate the Thalmor, we need have no worry." He answered. Rytel laughed to himself. "What is so funny?" asked Logvarine.

"Just wondering if you two have thought of names yet?"

"Azurine." Logvarine stated.

"Lo'ique." Cat said.

"Well that was easy." Laughed Nivard.

* * *

"Wake up Dammit!" screamed Kagnor into Logelaine's room. He sat up in his bed, he was still in his sleep wear and Saline lay beside him; he roused her from her sleep.

"Get up, something's wrong!" Saline jumped out of the bed and put on her armor in a flash. Logelaine ran over to his closet and opened it up revealing at least ten of the same outfit he had wrecked. He got his clothes on as fast as he could and the both of them ran out the door with weapons in hand. Kagnor stood in the middle of the throne room.

"Hurry up!" he yelled as he ran up the staircase to the front door, they followed him. He opened the door and ran into the snow. When the other two got outside, they were in shock. A ship - if you could call it that – was about a mile out to sea. It was absolutely monstrous in proportion compared to… just about anything. The blue, black and yellow ship was at least the size of the Vulkihar Castle, and it flew the Thalmor flag.

"By Talos!" exclaimed Logelaine, "Is it targeting us?" he asked. Kagnor shook his head no.

"I think it's heading to Solitude, but we have to do something." Kagnor answered.

"Why?" Logelaine asked.

"Because they could win the whole goddamned war with that ship…"

* * *

"What do you mean by 'Giant Ship'," asked Logvarine who was lounging on his throne, "do you mean it is a frigate, or a galleon, or—"

"No friend, it is just a GIANT SHIP!" exasperated the scout, who had just returned from solitude.

"…What are its destructive capabilities?" he hesitated.

"At least 50 magically powered cannons, and most likely a full crew." Logvarine shuddered at the thought of them laying siege to the cave, with such firepower they could probably collapse the caverns in on them.

"We need to be rid of it now." Logvarine demanded, "Send a strike team, I want that ship gone!" three men stood up then. Daneg, the Nord Vampire and lover of Erikaly; Gatel, a Dunmer and close friend of Logvarine who was quite muscular for his race; and Ad-shen, an Argonian with red and black scales who was known for his skills with most weapons and magic, allowing him to adapt just as his ancestors had.

"We will head a strike team, who will join us?" asked Daneg, the crowd seemed not so eager. From the crowd of over 200 people a mere 20 stood up. Daneg shrugged his large arms. "I guess this will be a stealth mission after all."


	12. Bonds Easily Broken

"Halt!" said the guard who stood before the docks toward the Thalmor ship. Daneg stopped in his tracks and waved off Gatel who was following, all of the others were someplace else. Daneg walked over to the guard, who was holding a large iron spear in his capable hands, and handed him a bag, the guard stepped away and allowed the two passage. Both of them put up their dark brown hoods and folded in their cloaks. As they walked down the docks toward the giant Thalmor warship, Gatel (Who had recently taken the ritual to become a werewolf) stopped and looked over at an adjacent ship.

"Something the matta'?" asked Daneg in his thick nord accent. Gatel looked at him and shook his head.

"I thought I could smell a vampire, not you, but another…"

"Curious," said Daneg, "can you still?" Gatel sighed and then nudged Daneg to continue forward.

"No, it's gone." They continued until they reached the make-shift stairs that led up to the top of the gigantic ship, the ship was masterfully built but that wasn't surprising when the Altmer made it. Blue and Gold were the dominant pallet of colors that made up the exterior of the ship. As they approached the stairs one guard was there in his red solitude guard uniform and a halberd in his left hand, he seemed unpleased with his current post. Daneg approached him as well, but instead snapped the poor man's neck and sunk his teeth into him. After he was finished he threw the man into the water with only using one arm.

"Are we good?" asked Gatel. Daneg nodded his head yes. Gatel made a whistling sound of complicated make. Suddenly the water around the dock became uneasy as 18 other men came out of the water and climbed onto the docks, Ad-Shen was with them and his red scales were drenched with sea water.

"By the Hist, this ship takes up most of the docks!" exasperated Ad-shen as he gazed up at the massive vessel.

"Not for much longer…" said one of the other men, Jasque, a Khajiit who was known for being a Skooma-cat if there ever was one, Logvarine got most of his supply from him. He had a sack on his back with explosives packed to the top. "Let's get to work, yeah?" he approached the ship and grabbed a satchel of magic explosives, he jumped onto the side of the ship grasping it with his claws and stuck the explosives there, he began to climb around the ship placing one every three metres. Luckily it was a dark and foggy night so they had no fear of being discovered in their treason.

"Let's get topside." Ordered Daneg, "You two," he pointed at two nords, "You stay 'ere and guard." They nodded and lied down on the dock so no one would be able to spot them until very close. The rest of the men made their way up slowly and carefully to the deck of the vessel, making sure not to arouse suspicion from its crew before the time was right. Daneg felt a slight pang of guilt for doing this, he knew that there would be civilian casualties; maybe he could warn the crew before it exploded. He let Gatel go first, as an elf he would not raise as much immediate suspicion. As he walked up onto deck he noticed two guards with their backs turned, one was standing and the other was sitting on a barrel. The Dunmer cracked his knuckles and walked up to the two elves. Before they could react to the contact between his burly hands and their heads, their two heads made a connection as well and they fell to the floor, unconscious. Another guard was on the other side of the ship and was leaning over the side admiring the view of the harbor; Gatel notched an arrow in his bonemold bow he had gotten on a trip to Solstheim. The arrow cut through the bleak darkness and made contact with the elf's back, knocking him over the side of the boat. They were up so high that the splash was barely audible.

"Where are they?" asked a guard who was walking up to the front of the ship with another guard beside him. Before Gatel could react Ad-shen appeared seemingly out of nowhere and stabbed one in the throat, the other tried to stab him with his spear but he was easily blocked and then uppercutted by the Argonian, which knocked him unconscious. It seemed that the deck was clear now and the group of men flooded onto the vessel. Once everyone was on, everyone took position behind a different mast or barrel, waiting for someone to come up on deck. Daneg was last up and he waved to Gatel to tell him that he would be in position soon. He looked over the side of the boat to check on the two nords that he had left on guard… they were nowhere to be seen.

"Gatel?" Daneg said.

"What is it?"

"I think something might be wrong, the guards are gone." Gatel made a face and looked up, sniffing the air.

"I can smell it again…" as if on cue an arrow cut through the fog and placed itself in the head of one of the other men, a Bosmer.

"Shit! Plan B!" shouted Daneg; Plan B was to simply storm the ship and destroy it through whatever means possible. The men got into fighting positions as the door to below deck opened up, but it wasn't a legion of Thalmor soldiers like had been expected, no, it was a large nord man in Ebony armor and adorning a black hood. He held in his left hand the head of a Thalmor soldier, and in his right a bloody axe. Before a reaction could occur, a dark-elf man jumped down from the main mast and impaled a man in the back with an old tattered katana. Logelaine.

"Reunions are becoming more and more common for us aren't they Kagnor?" he said as he grabbed the man's head and started sucking the blood from his neck. Another man ran at him with a battle axe and was met with a katana to his gut. "How rude!"

"Logelaine, leave before I forget about the bond that Molag-Bal had given us." Daneg was at the ceremony the night that Cavek and Logelaine had become vampires.

"I can't do that Danny-boy."

"Then I'll make you." Daneg ran at him with two axes in his hands and screaming with his fangs barred. Suddenly he felt a jolt of excruciating pain racing up the left side of his body and realised that his left arm was no longer attached to his torso and that Kagnor's axe had done the rending of his flesh.

"By the Nine!" exclaimed Gatel as he ran and tackled Daneg over the ship to save him before he lost anything else, but before he jumped off himself he threw a knife at Kagnor and it went deep into his shoulder. "Retreat!" he screamed as he went over the side of the boat. Ad-shen stepped in front of the rest of the men and spewed flames from his hands all over the deck between them and the enemy.

"Jump you idiots!" he screamed as he dove into the water, he poked his head back up, "Go to the original meet-up point!" Jasque looked over at him, he was on the other side of the ship now and almost finished but without asking questions he simply took the rest of the satchels and plastered them all in one spot before jumping into the water and swimming for dear life. Back on the deck, the mast collapsed from the flames and fell onto the cabin.

"We should be leaving." Suggested Logelaine as he patted Kagnor on the shoulder and they both jumped off the north side of the boat and into the water.

* * *

The men all met up on the east side of the bay and caught their breath before they spotted Gatel coming slowly towards shore with Daneg on his shoulder, a trail of blood painted the ocean water red as they swam.

"Ahh, it burns!" screamed Daneg as he made his way up to the shore holding his wounded shoulder, Ad-shen was trying to wrap his stump in gauze but was having trouble with the struggling nord. Jasque who had his head on his knees looked up.

"Oh yeah! I forgot!" he snapped his fingers and on the horizon they could see the ship explode like a powder keg, it was most prominent on the side where he stuck the giant mound of satchels. It started to sink into the water. Hoots and hollers came from the remaining men and even Daneg managed a small smile before his lips began to quiver from the pain of his wound.

"We need to get back." Stated Gatel, "Logvarine needs to hear what happened." Jasque reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of skooma, he downed the whole thing and then threw it on the sand.

"Let's get going then!" he said cheerfully.

* * *

"By the Gods!" said Logvarine outside of the cave entrance to their base. Daneg was limping his way to the entrance with Gatel under his shoulder. "How did this happen?" the snow was blowing by fast and the wind kicked up Logvarine's cape as he ran toward his friends, the other men passed by him to go inside and share their own stories and to mourn.

"One of Logelaine's men chopped his bloody arm off, the Swit!" said Gatel, Logvarine went over and threw off his gauntlets, they disappeared as they usually do and he put his hand against Daneg's stump, Daneg shivered and bit down on his lip, drawing blood. A healing aura began to spread around Logvarine's hand.

"We must get him inside; we can talk later after we've stabilized him."

* * *

Daneg now lay upon a stone table in the infirmary with Logvarine holding his hand against the stump of his shoulder, he was trying his hardest not to scream as they took the gauze off but it was a fool's errand.

"Hold still, I'm sorry if this hurts Dan." He said as he pressed his hand against his bare, bloody flesh.

"Ahhhhhh! Make it stop!" he screamed but Logvarine couldn't stop, not if he wanted an arm.

"You said you wanted this, now stop screaming!" Daneg tried even harder than he thought he could and tears dripped down the side of his pale and gaunt face. This was the first time that Logvarine had been present for the 'Dwarven Arm' procedure, and he could barely stand it, even if he was only keeping Daneg stable.

"Do IT!" he screamed at the mages tending to his new arm. Logvarine knew this was going to be a long night…


	13. A Stroll

In the dim torch lit infirmary Logvarine sat in a stone chair just feet away from Daneg's bed. Logvarine's hands were covered in blood, Daneg's blood and he was still shaken from the whole procedure. He walked over to the water basin and washed his hands and face before looking over to grab a bucket to vomit into. He looked back up, still breathing heavily and then realized what Baelen was talking about, it seemed absolutely excruciating for the poor Nord, but at least he had a new arm, fully functioning hopefully. He walked over to Daneg and leaned over his stone bed to examine his new appendage. His left arm was now three pieces of Dwemer metal and a mixture of nuts and bolts and magic pistons to allow it to move like an actual arm. The dwarven metal had all matter of runes inscribed upon its surface, Dwemer runes that were likely left over from whatever purpose the metal served before now. The area where his new arm attached to his skin was glowing blue with Magika and his veins around his stump pulsed like a beating heart. Logvarine decided that it would be best to leave him alone now, to give him time alone to rest, Logvarine needed to unwind too. He walked down the hall dragging his tired feet behind him and eventually came upon a room with smoke leaking out between the cracks in the door, it smelt strongly of skooma. He reached over and opened the door to reveal Jasque, Gatel and Tyr'ique relaxing over a pipe full of skooma. Gatel was trying his hardest to play the Lute and was failing at it miserably whilst trying not to laugh, Jasque was still his usual giggly self and Tyr'ique seemed to be as relaxed as he always was.

"Hey man…" smiled Tyr'ique, "come sit with us, I'm tripping like a scamp, man!" he burst into laughter. The others followed suit and Logvarine could barely contain his own laughter at their stupidity.

"Okay, sure; it sounds like fun." He sat down beside Tyr'ique and closed the door, only a single torch lit the small room and two stone benches was all there was to sit on. Jasque passed the pipe to Logvarine and he snapped his fingers to start the smoke. He inhaled as much as he could and handed it to Tyr'ique, trying not to let it out until he couldn't stand it any longer. He exhaled the smoke and blew it in Gatel's face with a funny looking smile.

"It's good right?" whispered Jasque as he leaned over to Logvarine. Logvarine leaned back against the wall and started giggling.

"Yeah, I've needed this…" he was glad to get rid of his stress, but recreational drugs wouldn't solve his problems, no, he needed to plan for the coming storm that the Thalmor would be sure to bring with them.

* * *

"What have you done!?" screamed Baelen at Logvarine as he sat at a table downing a bottle of mead. Logvarine was quite startled by the sudden outburst and looked up with a quizzical look on his face.

"What in Oblivion are you on about?" Baelen looked like his head was going to explode.

"You have just destroyed a prototype! One I had worked on personally, and the finished product is going to be a whole new kind of trouble…" he slammed his dwarven hand on the table, taking a stone chip out of it. "They will be mass producing them soon enough and you have made them far more angry than they have ever been." Logvarine laughed in his face.

"They won't be able to touch us, I've spent YEARS," he stood up and started walking back and forth as he talked, "recruiting the finest talent east and west of Akavir, no one can stop us, NO ONE!" he walked over to the door to exit into the throne room.

"I'm going for a stroll around Solitude," he put up his hood, "anyone wants to come now's the time?" Nivard stood up from across the room.

"Aye, I'll tag along." As the two of them walked out Baelen sat down and tried to calm his nerves, but nothing would work.

* * *

They were half way to solitude by now and the sounds of nature surrounded them, the birds singing, the elk calling, and the branches of the trees rustling from the wind. It was soothing. They were riding down the dirt path to Solitude on their own horses; they had to wear their black cloaks so that there would be no fear of spotting their very distinct armor.

"How is Cat doing?" said Nivard as he lightly spurred his horse to move her forward. Logvarine looked up from the menial task of lightly spurring his own horse every few seconds.

"She is doing fine, the babies are growing healthily." He exhaled his relief at being able to say that out loud, as if it confirmed it as truth in his mind even though it hadn't felt like it when the doctor had said so.

"Well that's some good news, for once."

"Ain't that the truth, seems like all we get is bad news." Recently that seemed to be the only news they would get.

"Are the guards in Solitude still on the Thieves guild's pay roll? I don't want to be spotted by the guards and thrown to the gallows for treason." Asked Nivard, Logvarine laughed.

"Don't worry about that, they'll look the other way."

* * *

Half a day later they arrived in Solitude, they roped their horses to the fence post outside the city and paid a guard to watch them. When the gates to the city opened they walked forward along the stone paved streets, wet from the recent rain. The buildings were tall and impressive in their stature; masterfully crafted. To his right Logvarine could see where his head would roll if he was ever captured, the chopping block was not a good first site in the city. Logvarine did not make a sound as he stepped down the way, a benefit of the muffle enchantment on his armor. His scouts have reported that people have been making up stories of a ghost in a black cloak, no doubt a result of his outings to Solitude. They passed by a pair of Altmer in Thalmor robes conversing about the weather, they watched them cautiously.

Nivard leaned in close to Logvarine and whispered in his ear.

"Do you think they notice?" he asked as hushed as he could muster.

"They are suspicious of our presence, but that is simply because of our cloaks, do not give them reason to be any more suspicious." They continued walking through the city trying to enjoy their stroll as best they could with the Thalmor breathing down their necks. Children ran past playing their own games and singing old folk songs. With their muffle enchantments on, the people of Solitude must have thought that they were ghosts of some sort considering how both of them made no sound as they walked slowly down the way in their reaper black garb. They sat down on the bench in the courtyard of Castle Dour and let their hoods down, no guards were to be seen; Logvarine also just realized that this is where the cousin of the Emperor had been assassinated, by Em-Shei and Cavek no less. They lounged on the bench for a time before Nivard could sense something wrong.

"Hey," he nudged Logvarine, "look over there." He pointed to an imperial man with a woman's wrist in his hand; he was screaming at her and she held a look of genuine fear.

"I'll get this…" said Logvarine, he put his hood back up and wrapped his cloak tightly around his figure to hide his armor. As he approached the man slowly he seemed not to notice his presence, but the woman certainly did and she wasn't sure if she should be more terrified or relieved.

"I told you to stop seeing him you Whore!" he shouted at her; tears were running down her face. The Imperial man wound up his fist to strike her but Logvarine came from behind him and grabbed his wrist before he could make contact.

"I'm going to ask you to stop shouting at this woman, or I—"

"What will you do? She's my daughter and I can do what I want to her!" he let go of her wrist and wound up with his other hand, she cringed as she braced for the punch. Logvarine grabbed his other wrist as well and spun him around, he let go of him and then grabbed him by his throat. He leaned in so close to the man that their foreheads were nearly touching.

"I would NEVER treat my daughter like THAT." He growled at the man through his barred teeth. The man was only shaken from the surprise of the situation; he did not seem generally afraid.

"This ain't nun' your damn business, now let me go 'fore I call the guards." He said back at Logvarine, his breath was rank. Logvarine twirled the man around and slammed him against the gate, he sounded like the wind had been knocked out of him; Logvarine still had him by the neck.

"Who she sees is not your business either, who is he anyways?" the man looked surprised that he would ask.

"I'm seeing a Bosmer…" said the timid woman, "My father doesn't approve." She walked over and grabbed Logvarine's shoulder, "Don't hurt him, please." Logvarine looked at her, trying to understand how she couldn't hate this man.

"I'll give you time to leave the city with your things before I let him go, I'm not risking your safety." The man struggled to get out and Logvarine pushed his other arm against his neck to keep him from struggling too hard. The woman hesitated but started to run. Logvarine let the abusive man down but grabbed his arm.

"Now," he said, "you are going to come and sit down with me and my associate for a bit, and the guards won't help you," he began to whisper, "Trust me on that." Logvarine tugged the man by the arm over to the bench that they were to sit on. He sat the man in between himself and Nivard. Nivard enjoyed toying with people during these situations and struggled not to scare the poor man. He looked down at their new acquaintance and scoffed.

"Who's this Milk-Drinker?" he said leaning in to the Imperial.

"He'll be our friend for the next ten minutes… lovely weather eh?" the Imperial seemed un-amused by the whole situation.

"I don't want my daughter dating some tree-humper!" he said angrily at Logvarine. He just tightened his hold on the man's arm.

"As a proud Imperial supporter, I don't appreciate racist comments…" for the next few minutes they sat with the man and remained mostly silent, minus the odd comment. After that they let the man go and he walked away holding his arm.

"Do you think his daughter will get out of town safely?" asked Nivard.

"I'm sure she'll be fine, but we should get back soon." They went to leave and gathered up their cloaks again, wrapping them tightly to their armor. As they went to the archway however, two Thalmor agents stepped out to block their paths.

"I hope you weren't planning on going anywhere." Said the one on Logvarine's right. Nivard brushed aside his cloak and pulled out a dragon-bone axe.

"We were actually, so if you don't mind…" he nudged his axe over in the direction of the archway.

"We know who you are, you will not leave."

"If," spoke Logvarine, "you know who we are then you also know that this will be the last mistake you make," he pulled away his own cloak to reveal Paarthurnax, "but if you leave now then such incidents can be avoided."

"I'm afraid we can't leave." Said the other Agent. Logvarine put his mask up and brandished his flaming blade.

"Then you shall be forced to leave this plain of existence."


	14. Humble Before Man and Beast

Logvarine and Nivard stood before the two Thalmor agents, no one was about to move first as he would surely become the first target.

"I will warn you once more," he raised his sword at them, "we are the Dragonborn of Legend and you should stand down before we make you feel the wrath of the dragon." The two Altmer began to laugh at him. The one on the right tried to say something but he was laughing too hard, this wasn't even false laughter being used to aggravate them; they were really laughing, one of them fell to his knees because he couldn't stand the pain of the laughter. Nivard pushed Logvarine out of the way and then leaned back, sucking in air.

"_YOL TOOR SHUL!_" he shouted and suddenly a wave of fire leapt from his mouth. The two Thalmor had no time to react as the Dragon fire hit them and they were lit ablaze. They screamed in pain and terror from the flames that licked up their clothes and burned their fragile golden skin and then they both lied down, dead.

"We should leave…" Nivard suggested.

* * *

A day later, they arrived back home with nothing accomplished aside from freeing the abusive man's daughter from his custody. They had met up along the road with her and her Bosmer lover, she had thanked him for the help and then the two of them left for Whiterun. He was glad to have helped; he just couldn't believe that a father could be so cold-hearted to their own kin, he was going to be a father and he couldn't imagine being like that to his children. They were greeted with the general greetings from the 200-so members of the Vengeance. In total the Vengeance with its spread out pockets of resistance stood at about 700 strong currently.

"We were attacked," recalled Nivard in the throne room, he went on to recall the whole story, "But no one saw and when the guards arrived we were already a long ways away." The crowd, (comprised of people desensitised to cruelty towards the Thalmor) laughed and cackled at the story of how the Thalmor learned of the power of his Thu'um. Logvarine felt no sorrow for them, he gave them ample opportunities to retreat and hunt them another day, but they refused. Cat approached Logvarine upon his throne and jumped up landing on his lap rump first. Logvarine had scarcely been more surprised in his life and laughed it off best he could.

"Did I scare you?" she asked him, she still had a slight accent regardless of being around so many non-Khajiit for so long. Logvarine was still smiling.

"A little, yes." She chuckled at him and then wrapped her hands around his neck.

"Have you communed with Hircine lately?" she asked him, he had not.

"No, perhaps I should go to the shrine near Falkreath sometime soon to ask him what his will is." Catath'een looked at him provocatively.

"May I come?" she asked. Logvarine could never say no to her.

"Of course you can, Hircine would love to hear from his favored Khajiit Pup." They both giggled for a bit, flirtatiously. Someone began to approach the throne, it was Erikaly.

"I… I saw Daneg the other day." She looked like she had been crying recently, her eyes were sore looking.

"Are you going to be okay?" asked Logvarine with Cat still on his lap. Erikaly nodded slowly.

"I'll live, and so will he thanks to you and Gatel." Logvarine waved her off.

"Nonsense, it was Gatel who got him here alive, you need to be thanking only him." She nodded slowly again and then walked off. Cat looked worriedly at Logvarine; she was very close to his face.

"Are you sure she'll be okay?" Logvarine shrugged.

"She said she would be okay, so we must leave her be." He got up and set cat back down on the throne, "I'm going to check on Daneg, I'll be back." He kissed her and then reluctantly let go of her hand; he began to walk toward the infirmary.

* * *

"It… It responds to me… so this is what it feels like to have three fingers?" wondered Daneg as he sat up in his bed and gazed in awe at his new arm. Logvarine sat in a stone chair not too far from the bed.

"Can you… feel it?" he asked, thinking that it may be a stupid question. Daneg looked up at him.

"Almost, if I touch it against somethin' I can faintly feel it." He told him.

"How curious, well I'm glad you're feeling better," he got up to leave, "but I must go, I hope to see you in the main hall tomorrow." He said.

"Aye, I'll be there." And then Logvarine left out the doorway. On his way down the hall Rauland approached.

"Logvarine!" he called, "I've been training and studying a lot while you were away, I've gotten pretty good." Logvarine walked regally with his arms behind his back.

"That is good to hear…" he said. Rauland couldn't think of a way to carry on the conversation after that.

"I'll… I'll see you later then…" he said as he ran off to his quarters. Logvarine sighed as he made his way back to the throne room.

* * *

"Welcome back…" said Cat provocatively as she got up off of the throne and let Logvarine sit back down. She sat back down on his lap again.

"Thank you." Was all he could think to say as his lover caressed his cheek with her hand. She was truly beautiful in his eyes, he didn't care what the others thought; although most of his friends and family had accepted that he was in love with a Khajiit, it was still rarely heard of.

"Are you going to go hunting for offerings?" he was certain she was talking about offerings for Hircine but he wanted to make sure.

"You mean for Hircine?" he asked. She rolled her blue cat eyes.

"No, for the other hunter god; of course you fool!" she laughed and embraced him some more, "Do you think I could join you?" she asked slouched against his chest. He looked down and kissed her on the head.

"You may come if you wish." He answered.

* * *

The next day they awoke and lied on the bed for a time, flirting as they do. After a while they got dressed in their usual armor, him in Boethiah's armor and her in Nightingale garb. They grabbed their bows, his was a Dragon bone long bow named Mirmulnir, after the first Dragon he had ever killed. She wrapped her Nightingale bow around her chest and shoulder and pulled up her hood, he did the same. As they walked out the door they grabbed their quivers off of the wall and hung them on their backs. They walked through the main hall letting their friends know where they were going, so no one would worry too much. As they exited into the harsh morning sun light it felt much like old times; before they were truly in love, when they were simply hunting partners.

"I've gotten so used to the cold snow," Catath'een said as she looked to the ground, "but I still miss the sand…" Logvarine put his hand on her shoulder.

"Look on the Brightside," he assured her, "there is better game to hunt in the colder regions." This cheered her up and she smirk a loving smile at him.

"You always know just what to say." She said to him.

"Remember," he said back to her as he pointed at her snout, "when on the hunt we are not lovers," he reminded, "we are the hunter's hounds." She put up her mask and nodded a very clear and stiff nod; she was a werewolf as well so she knew exactly what he meant.

"We hunt in his honor…" she reminded herself; Logvarine took his bow off of his shoulder and readied his quiver in a reachable position. The hunt was more of a thrill for a werebeast than it was for a mortal; beast form or not. A natural, primal, feral, instinct came to the surface of the mind when stalking your prey, not like an adrenaline rush but there was still a lot of that as well; no, it was more like a reason, a reason to live and breathe; it made you feel truly alive. Sometimes during the hunt, Logvarine could barely contain his beast form inside of himself, it would just come out. That very rarely happened anymore, he had learned total control like his father had. He readied his clawed gauntlets and jumped onto a nearby tree, clawing his way up to the middle branch. She followed on a nearby tree as they leapt branch to branch.

"Please be careful not to fall," he reminded her, "we need to remember the kids." He said. She just continued jumping like normal, cat like obviously.

"They will be fine, you seem to forget how hard this armor is." She giggled. Logvarine knew he shouldn't worry, but that didn't help. He thought it might be part of his feral instincts, protect the pack, the pups and your mate, but maybe it was like this for mortals too. They continued climbing through the forest for a time until they stumbled upon a lone snow saber-cat, Logvarine offered to take it.

"I'll go down with my dagger," he said, "a cleaner kill." He hovered over the cat on a branch of a nearby tree, he then jumped and stabbed the saber-cat in the back; it died soon after without much of a struggle.

"I'm sure the hunter will understand why you did not participate too much in the hunt." Said Logvarine to his lover.

"Speaking of which," she said, "we need to be wed still, don't we?" Logvarine had forgotten about that entirely, but he went to skinning the animal while he talked.

"Yes, so we do." He cut through the cat's hide and made sure to not cut too deep into its flesh.

"Where do you want to be married?" she asked him. He stopped for a moment and then went back to skinning the giant feline.

"Anywhere is fine, as long as we're together, right?" he said with a grin under his dark mask. She crossed her arms.

"I'm serious, a temple, a daedric shrine, a balcony somewhere far away, the forest…"

"The forest, most certainly the forest." He said while still carving up the beast, "I could see if one of my connections in the priesthood could hold the ceremony." Her tail began to wag back and forth.

"That sounds lovely." She said; suddenly she readied an arrow in her bow and let it fly, it hit a buck not 15 feet from them in the neck, he fell soon after. Logvarine had seen her do such things before and wasn't overly surprised by her swiftness.

"Good kill…" he said.

"Thank you, brother…" she said as she walked over to the carcass of the deer.


	15. Offerings

Early in the morning of the next day Logvarine loaded up all of the furs and pelts from the previous days hunt onto his carriage, and took his and Cat's horses from the stable to pull it. He put reins on the horses and called for Cat to wake up Nivard and bring him out. When Nivard finally came out into the snow, he wasn't dressed at all; he wore only a robe and he didn't even have shoes on, lucky nord didn't have to worry about the cold.

"Nivard, you'll be in charge while I am gone, you know what to do if something bad happens." Nivard did not look well slept, even for a werebear.

"Couldn't you have left a damned note!?" he questioned, it looked as if he was having quite a good nap before he was woken up by Catath'een.

"Sorry to have woken you, goodbye." She kissed Nivard on the cheek and climbed up onto the carriage; Logvarine wasn't sure if Nivard was blushing because of the cold, the kiss, or because of how hung over he was from the night before. He waved at the two as they rode away and he went back into the cave, most likely to get a few bottles of mead before heading back to bed.

"You realize that after this, we won't be able to do things like this much anymore," spoke Logvarine, "we have to focus on the Thalmor and they won't die easy." Cat leaned on him.

"AFTER the wedding?" Logvarine sighed.

"Yes, after the wedding."

* * *

Days and days of travel is what it would take to reach Falkreath from where they were, so they would have to stop from time to time; Hircine would understand Logvarine hoped. He brought his skooma pipe along for the ride, joking that they should stop by Sheogorath's shrine as well. Every hour Catath'een would pull out his pipe and smoke out of it, he refused however since he was trying to drive at the time; understandably.

"More for me." She would poke fun at him. He was a focused rider and driver, he didn't want to hurt that focus at all; he liked skooma but that did not mean he did not understand its effects. It had been around a year since he had last talked to the prince himself, he had a shrine in the cave, but it was not big enough or impressive enough for the prince himself to pay heed to; he would improve it one day and then Hircine would come to him. Logvarine and Cat once rode with a pack back in Cyrodil more than four years ago, their leader was fair and honorable, and the pack members were all accepting and understanding. The only problem Logvarine had with them is how most of them looked down on mortals as mere prey, as if they could not serve Hircine also. The pack leader wasn't like that though, he understood how being mortal was also a gift in its own right. They had to leave them, but once in a while they would stay in contact by means of a courier, one of the fastest in the pack. The leader held him in high regards for having the favor of Hircine himself as he did, as well as having the initiative to start his own 'pack' as he had called it. Logvarine explained over and over that the Vengeance wasn't a wolf-pack but he relented in his definition. Maybe his band of warriors was a pack in a way, they certainly had enough werebeast members to be considered as such, but a pack was comprised of ONLY werebeast members by Logvarine's standards.

* * *

After a day of long tiring travel, the couple stopped off in Rorikstead for the night at the local Inn. They paid their 20 septims and then went off to bed, eager to get the day started on a good note the next morning. Their sleep was restless as was usual for a werebeast. Dreams of the hunt and of their Prince Hircine clouded their thoughts as they slumbered, praying to Hircine seemed to help, but they couldn't do that here. They slept through the night regardless and awoke the next morning with little rest, not that a werewolf needed much rest anyways. They mounted the carriage and made off towards Falkreath like they had planned.

* * *

They arrived in Falkreath the day after and parked their carriage outside of the gates, they took the furs and mounted their horses individually each with a big bundle of hunting spoils on the backs of their steeds and the two of them set into the forest dodging around fallen branches and holes in the terrain. After around two hours of navigation through the unforgiving terrain they came upon the scene they had been searching for. Not dissimilar to the shrine in Cyrodil, a shrine stood tall in between the moss covered trees of the deep forest, the only difference was that this statue had a man with a deer's SKULL instead of a deer's entire HEAD in place of his own. Hastily made pews were lined up in front of the statue and only five people sat in them. The men and women were dressed in rags; they had been there for a while.

"Good evening." Logvarine said. The worshippers looked up from their prayer and although initially scornful, realised who was before them.

"The champion of Hircine!" said one of the Imperial cultists; he went to his knees, "Please, approach the shrine."

"Thank you, Banoer." He said to the man whom he knew through years of worship at this shrine. He got off of his horse and grabbed his furs and pelts, Cat did the same. They walked toward the shrine like they were told to and placed the offerings before the statue's feet. Logvarine got to his knees and everyone followed soon after.

"Lord Hircine, I give you these humble offerings; more than 30 of the finest hides from the numerous beasts that Skyrim's wilds have to offer to your followers." A portal began to materialize between Logvarine and the statue; the worshippers were in absolute awe at the sight. A spectral figure stepped through the portal with a spear in one hand and a leashed hound in his other, it seemed hungry.

"_I am glad to hear from you once more, Logvarine…_" he released his hound and it jumped up on the statue's base, grabbed ALL of the furs in its enormous jowls, and leapt back through the portal, it closed then. "_Is there a specific reason you come before me? Or are you just offering your spoils for naught?_" Logvarine wasn't sure of the answer himself.

"I would like to know how our old pack is doing?" asked Catath'een, there were murmurs from the crowd.

"_Silence!_" demanded Hircine to his subjects, "_She is worth 50 of you lot!_" he looked down at Cat and pointed his spear, "_You may now repeat the question, if you may?_"

"I would like to know how our old pack is doing, my Prince." The lord of hunts raised his head and began to rub the deer skull's chin.

"_I suppose I can tell you that…_" he stamped his spear into the ground, "_They are well, all of them still live from when you still knew them, their leader who you referred to as 'The Hound' has been keeping up with his offerings and has earned quite the prestige in my eyes… yet he refuses to contact me… interesting?_" Logvarine stood up.

"He is too humble my Prince," Logvarine explained, "He thinks himself unworthy, especially since I had made contact with you before I was even under your influence; it made him feel inferior… may I ask a favor?" the prince crossed his arms.

"_You have brought me quite the bounty, I will consider it…_" he stood there waiting for the request.

"I ask for you to appear before the Hound," if Hircine's skull could show emotion, it would be confusion, "He deserves your favor more so than I in my opinion Hircine, It would make me very happy to see him receive some credit from you; if you would only allow it my lord." He bowed before the bulky spectral man.

"_I will do this, but you are still more worthy in my eyes… as an individual; as a whole…_" he pondered for a moment, "_I suppose since the hound has been in charge of a pack for so long he does indeed deserve my credit._" Logvarine's face lit up.

"Thank you my prince, and especially thank you for appearing before your summoning day; I am sorry if this caused you any problems." Hircine waved his hand.

"_It would be an insult to not come and claim your bounty personally, it was quite a large bounty and was deserving of recognition,_" he pointed at Logvarine warningly, "_but do not make a common habit out of it._" He looked towards Cat and back to Logvarine with his head cocked sideways, "_She is carrying pups?_" he asked. It took a bit for Logvarine to compose himself and answer the question.

"Yes… Yes, my prince she is pregnant." The prince gave a hearty laugh, the first positive emotion Logvarine had ever seen a daedric prince use; save Sheogorath, he was always happy.

"_Just remember,_" he said as a portal opened behind him, "_Wolves mate for life…_" and Hircine walked backwards and then disappeared.


	16. Cold Reuinion

Logvarine and Catath'een conversed with the other Hircine cultists for a while, but they eventually had to leave to get back to the cave east of Solitude. They mounted their horses and made their way back through the maze of the forest to Falkreath where they hitched their horses up to the carriage and made off down the road for home.

* * *

Days past and now Logvarine sit back upon his throne with his flowing black cape behind him. The last days had been for the planning of a wedding, Cat and her women friends were taking care of that mostly, only asking the men for advice once in the blue moons.

"Okay," said Erikaly, "We know you want it in the forest, but what forest?"

"I… Log' what forest would work best for a wedding?" asked Cat, Logvarine sighed.

"One with a thick canopy; someplace private."

"That's a good idea!" said Erikaly as she began scrawling something on parchment with a quill and ink. Logvarine just rolled his eyes, he couldn't care less where it was; he just wanted a wedding. Later that day he grabbed his own good parchment and gold-tipped quill, he dipped its head in his expensive ink and began to write a letter. When he was done he put it in an envelope and sealed it with hot wax.

"Deliver this to Quentil at Weynon Priory; no one else!" he demanded to the courier.

"Of course." Logvarine had been recommended this courier by many nobles in the courts, he was fast and efficient. Now his hopes of having a trustworthy priest for the wedding rested on this man's shoulders. He was paying a hefty amount of coin to this courier, he expected the best and only the best. The man left without another sound made to anyone.

* * *

The next day was a normal day in the Dwemer ruins that they called home, until Cavek walked through the door with an Imperial man by the neck, he looked like he had been freezing out in the cold for days, and his skin was deathly pale, he wore only patches of fur armor.

"Samuel!" screamed Catath'een as she sprung forward onto Cavek, punching him in the face; he let go of the man. Logvarine looked up.

"What! I caught him snooping around out—"

"Shut up!" screamed Cat at the vampire, she looked down at the man, he was young but he had white hair and pale blue eyes, just as they had remembered him. She cradled him in her arms. Just then Logvarine snapped back to reality and ran over to the fallen man, pushing Cavek out of the way.

"Samuel, is that you?" said Logvarine as the man tried to rise to his feet, but fell back down on his back.

"I…I… Cat? Is that you?" he asked through flickering eye lids.

"Yes, yes it is I. what are you doing here?" he laughed a small wheezing laugh and then coughed; he was shivering violently.

"Get the man some warm water!" demanded Logvarine to the crowd, at least five people raced out of the room. "Gods Damnit Cavek, what did you do to him!?" Cavek looked offended.

"I found him like that, don't look at me!" Samuel was still shivering on the cold floor.

"I sme… smell v-v-v-vampire…" he sputtered. Logvarine picked him up by the legs and the shoulders and carried him over to a table, the people sitting there moved as Cat cleared the surface with one swipe of her arm. He sat Samuel down.

"We were o-o-on our w-w-way to y-y-your base-s-s-s," he managed to say, "W-w-w-we were at-t-t-tacked." A nord woman returned with a glass of warm water and Logvarine poured it down Samuel's throat, he almost choked.

"Is that better?" he asked him.

"Much better…" he whispered back. "You have quite a large pack, larger than we thought…"

"We're not a pack." Logvarine said blandly.

"The… The others, we followed your scent from Cyrodil, used M-magic to enhance our sense of smell," he was still shivering lightly, "You need to go help the others…" Logvarine was still trying to understand.

"Why did you come though, I don't fully understand your reasoning?"

"Hircine," Samuel said, "Appeared before the Hound and told him to go and help your cause, that was his will," he managed a smile, "I've never seen the boss so happy in my life…" Logvarine managed a smile back.

"Where are the others?" said Cat.

"They were attacked by a group of Werewolf hunters near Whiterun… a cave south of there is where they hid from them, you'll be able to smell the scent of dog as soon as you get to the City!" he laughed. Logvarine stood up straight and started walking towards the door.

"I'm coming too!" shouted Cat.

"NO!" shouted Logvarine back, he grabbed her shoulders, "You are too important to be reckless like this," he kissed her on the forehead, "I'll be back soon." And he ran out the door; he would go alone, it was his fault after all…

* * *

Logvarine had no time for a horse; he could travel faster in beast form. He took on the form of the wolf and made a mad sprint through the mountains, he paid no heed to the prey that lined the forests, and hunters ran in terror as he rocketed through the forest. He came upon Whiterun but gave the city a wide berth as he zoomed over the fields of tall yellow grass. It was midnight now and a Blizzard had kicked up just as he arrived at the source of the scent that Samuel had described. He hid behind a tree, still in his beast form; no boots or gauntlets, and watched carefully, listening for any sign of hostile movement. He saw someone with a scent he couldn't recognize as a werewolf, so he pounced, the man had no time to scream as Logvarine's teeth tore through the flesh of his neck. Two more men were poking around outside the cave; they also had no familiar scent. Logvarine ran at them and grabbed both of their heads with his claws, slamming them down into the snow, he could hear them scream but it was muffled.

"_**Why are you here!**_" he howled at them in the most demonic voice he could possibly gather in his throat. They would not answer so he crushed their skulls with his hands, he wouldn't feast on their remains; there was no time. He looked over and saw a trail of blood leading into the cave, he was breathing heavily as he entered the cavern; there was no point in concealing his presence now.

"_Hello?_" he called out into the caverns, "_Are you there Hound?_"

"Logvarine?" said a voice that echoed off of the cave's walls.

"_Yes, I am here, you can come out; it's safe._" Suddenly more than 30 people appeared from behind the numerous boulders and stone walls, including The Hound. The Hound was a tall Nord man with muscular features, even for a nord. He wore a full set of Fur armor that only revealed his chest, on his chest was a tattoo of a deer's skull. He had long flowing brown hair and a rough beard.

"Logvarine!" he cheered in surprise, "I would recognize that fur anywhere!" Logvarine let out a demonic chuckle.

"_How are you band of werewolves doing?_" he asked.

"We are no longer just werewolves…" he answered, "Our pack now accepts any were-creature." Logvarine slowly began to transform back into a dunmer.

"_That is good news,_" he said, "more hunting partners." He cracked his neck and looked around the room. Some faces he remembered, such as Preden, another dark elf from the pack that Logvarine was good friends with. Other faces he couldn't remember.

"We should get out of here," suggested the Hound, "more will be coming."

"More hunters you mean?" asked Logvarine curiously.

"Yes, I do not like being the prey." He giggled.


	17. The Wolf Pack

They fed on the bodies of the fallen, the men – werewolf hunters – that Logvarine had slain on his search for his old pack; he chose not to partake and would fill himself with deer meat on the way home. They talked a lot on the way back, about how they were, who was still around – Hircine hadn't told them that some of the members had left the pack – and why they came north from Cyrodil. Logvarine had to remain in his bestial form on the way back to the base, else he risk freezing to death.

"_So…_" spoke Logvarine, "_Hircine appeared before you finally?_" he knew the answer, but he didn't want The Hound to ever find out the truth behind his encounter with the prince. The Hound exhaled.

"Yes," he said, putting his hand on Logvarine's bulky shoulder, "he told me to help your cause, and so here we are!" he patted Logvarine's shoulder and kept on walking. Hircine was crafty, but Logvarine never expected anything of this calibre; delivering his former pack members unto his front door, or backyard in this case. This was his entire fault, so now he had to offer his home to his friends; make no mistake, he was more than glad to see them but this was greatly unexpected and he had no time to prepare. Their numbers would bolster the ranks of the base's forces, but they would need a lot more meat to be brought in (Werebeasts needed a high protein diet to survive) and more bedding would have to be arranged. He was grateful for the help, but he couldn't help but wonder if Hircine was trying to toy with him, or if he was sincerely attempting to help his cause.

"_We will be glad to have your help in the coming days._" Logvarine said.

"No, worries; we'll help out as much as we can around the house," joked Preden, "I'm not doing laundry though." Preden was a Dark elf, born in Morrowind into a Hlaalu family after the Argonian invasion; his upbringing was not pleasant. He became a werewolf at a very young age due to his parents being devote Daedra worshipping dunmer, and dunmer would worship whatever Daedra they preferred after the Tribunal had fallen apart. They met through the pack when Logvarine first joined at the age of 18; they were both still learning to control the true power behind the gift. He was one of the people who accepted everyone for who they were, but he couldn't stand it when people talked ill of his 'Curse'. His transformation was a curious one, black fur like most werewolves but with a grey snout and tail.

"I know I've asked you on previous occasions, but are you sure your men are trustworthy?" asked The Hound. Logvarine tried not to shoot daggers at him, but he would not accept any doubt from his friends.

"_They are my friends,_" he explained with his claws clenched into fists, "_I trust them with my life, maybe it will be the death of me,_" he admitted, "_but at least I'll die with integrity…_"

"Then I shall trust them as well." Said The Hound with a smile on his face.

"_Thank you…_"

"I never bet against the odds…" he snickered.

* * *

Hours past and they were still traveling at a Scrib's pace a minute, they still talked, occasionally diverting from the group for a moment to make a quick kill, they were a hungry bunch.

"Samuel arrived safe and sound I hope…" The Hound said with an apprehensive look in his eye.

"_Yes… he is being taken care of by Cat as we speak._" He answered him.

"Good, that is good."

"_Is there anyone new that I should meet?_" asked Logvarine, struggling to keep his tongue in his mouth; he was hungry.

"Only one that NEEDS to be introduced to you," he turned around and began walking backwards, "HEY LHOTAN, GET OVER HERE!" he called out to a Redguard, he came running very fast and jumped over a boulder, rolling as he hit the ground before coming to a slow saunter as he approached the two. He had a rough beard and long black dreadlocks, his armor was bits and pieces of armor from numerous places, but most of it resembled that of an Alik'r warrior. His dark skin shone in the moonlight. "This is Lhotan. Lhotan, this is Logvarine."

"Nice to meet you." He shook Logvarine's giant paw. "I'm a wereboar." He explained simply.

"_I have a wereboar in my group of warriors as well, his name is Tylnar, an Orc._" The Redguard let out a small laugh.

"Ha, the tusks must fit nice on his already toothy face!" Logvarine chuckled a bit before trying to retain the seriousness of the conversation.

"_So, why are you so important?_" he asked.

"He's our ambassador to the other packs, and he recruits fresh meat when possible." Explained Hound.

"_Ah,_" Logvarine said, "_That is Important._"

"He'll be only an asset; that much I am sure of."

* * *

Logvarine was no longer in his beast form as they walked up the short snowy path to the cave that they called home; Cat was at the entrance waiting for them with Samuel behind her. She ran and jumped into Logvarine's arms, they kissed and then he let her down, only to receive looks of confusion from the crowd, some even of disgust.

"Is something wrong?" Logvarine asked, "I can assure you it is better looking on the inside—"

"Did…" Hound looked perplexed, "did you and Cat just kiss?"

"Umm…" _Fireblood! _Thought Logvarine, _I forgot to tell them, why didn't I ever tell him by courier?_ "Didn't you know?" Logvarine was going to try and play it off smooth, but The Hound was an attentive one.

"No, you didn't tell us anything like this," Logvarine hoped that this wouldn't make things awkward, but the Hound knew them when they were still new to the beast blood; before they were in love "what is going on?" Logvarine was not one for confrontation of this manner; he couldn't take the stress much longer.

"Me and Cat are in love," he couldn't believe he had just said that, back in the pack they had treated each other like brother and sister; as if The Hound was their father. Another way to explain it would be that the current situation could not become any more awkward for them. Preden had a look on his face that read as 'That's not possible, right?'

"Funny!" laughed The Hound, "No but seriously, what was that about?" Logvarine knew this would not be easy, but he was oblivious even after he told him directly.

"We've been seeing each other for around three years now," Logvarine tried to explain this as best he could. Samuel didn't look confused like the others, so she must have clued him in. "and we have two children on the way." Logvarine put his hand on Catath'een's abdomen, as if to confirm this. The Hound didn't want to admit it, even though he knew it was true.

"Okay, let's go back through this again," he said, Logvarine just groaned and held his head in his hand; it was like teaching a child, "You…" he pointed to Logvarine, "and Cat," he pointed to Catath'een, "are… in love; lovers, you two!?" Logvarine walked over to the large nord man and shook him by the shoulders.

"Yes, by the Heart of Lorkahn yes!" Hound pursed his lips in thought; just as Logvarine had thought, it was impossible for him to grasp that they were in love.

"It… it may take some time for me to… come to terms with that," Logvarine just sighed at him; at least it was a start, "but on a similar note, congratulations on your pups!" Logvarine saw that coming.

"Thank you! Now," he pointed at the cave entrance, "can we please continue this over some mead? Brewed from the best honey in Skyrim, I swear."

* * *

"Mmmmm!" murmured The Hound from between his mead covered lips, "You weren't lying about the mead!" Logvarine was wearing his full armor again; he laughed.

"I told you! We put a mixture of Jazbay Grapes and Juniper berries in with the honey; only a touch! We wouldn't want to spoil the sweetness of the honey." he made his point very clear. Nord men could all agree on one thing, mead was one of the best inventions in the history of Tamriel; even if Logvarine was only a Nord at heart.

"Aye, too much Juniper would ruin the sweet taste, try adding more Jazbay next time though." They laughed and took a swig on their bottles. Logvarine was first to touch on the sensitive topic.

"I can understand why you find it hard to believe that Cat and I are mates… I mean, we were like the best of friends not only a few years ago." Hound put down his bottle and wiped his mouth clean.

"I can see that you're happy, and Hircine has no problem, so neither shall I." He downed another swig of his drink and slouched back in his seat.

* * *

"How is your shoulder doing?" asked Logelaine as he grabbed a bottle of old blood he had kept frozen and heated it with his magic. Kagnor was stretching in the middle of the training room, almost naked and with a large bandage around his shoulder.

"I'll live." He said, not looking up from his stretching. Logelaine opened up the bottle and drank the contents, it filled his veins with a warm sensation that he missed; it was the only thing he missed about being mortal.

"Are the Thalmor making a move yet?" he asked licking the rim of the decanter. Kagnor stood up straight and walked over to Logelaine, he sat down in a nearby chair.

"No, they still don't know what caused the destruction of their ship, no witnesses…" Logelaine set down the glass container and sat down in another chair.

"The taller they stand…" he whispered through his interlocked fingers, "The harder they fall…"


	18. Sweat and Shiver

4E 202, two years ago…

Logelaine stood over the cold corpse of Arch-Curate Vyrthur, a Snow-elf and a vampire (like him), but without the gift of Molag bal's chosen. He had asked for the vampire to join him, to rule over all of Tamriel, but he refused. Logelaine had no choice but to kill him, it was the only way to get Auriel's bow. He hadn't wanted it to come to this; to kill one of the last remaining true Falmer, but that didn't change his mind as he made the final decision. He had told Saline and Kagnor to take the bow and run, run as far as possible from this place; the cold balcony that jutted out of the mountain overlooking the forgotten vale. He took in the sights of the waterfalls as they plummeted down into the frozen lake below, and the fog; so much fog. He had committed so many shameful, dishonorable acts in his short time in Skyrim; trying to prove himself the Dragonborn did not work to gain the trust of the people, so he had only one option left; the mortals must be turned or used as cattle for his master race of vampires… only those he considered friends would be free. He didn't hear his steps as he approached - because of his magic armor – but now Logvarine stood right behind him, Logelaine could smell wet dog.

"Brother…" whispered Logelaine threateningly.

"You can still turn back," said Logvarine, "You don't have to do this, just give me the Bo—"

"_FUS RO DAH!_" Logelaine said as he spun around to face his sibling. Logvarine braced himself but it didn't help much; he went flying against the wall and smashed some of the bricks with his heavy armor. He coughed and then rose to his feet; as he moved he made no sound.

"I see you won't co-operate." Logvarine shrugged off his cape and threw his gauntlets to the floor. "I'm sorry it had to come to this…" he held out his hands in front of himself and his Dragon bone claymore appeared in his grasp, flames rushed from the hilt.

"I like your new toy…" Logelaine mocked.

"His name is Nahfahlaar…"

"Fury for Life…"

"That is the translation," answered Logvarine as he put up his hood, "but you wouldn't know anything about life would you?" Logelaine's eyebrow twitched, he must have hit a nerve. Logelaine sprang into action, a large daedric claymore appeared in his own hands and he hurdled himself at Logvarine, hoping to catch him off-guard. Logvarine was better prepared than he had expected, wisps of pitch black smoke rushed off of his armor – divine protection from Boethiah himself – and they struck out at Logelaine, attempting to trip him up. It didn't help; Logelaine was ruthless, chaotic even in his resolve. He wanted to kill Logvarine and he would do anything in his power to do so. Logvarine would strike left and he would parry; Logelaine would slash up and Logvarine would block it; as they lunged the other would step back. They knew each other's rhythms too well. Logelaine struck at him from the right, and Logvarine parried but Logelaine would just spin back around to strike him from the left again, Logvarine would block that to. After what seemed like an eternity of fighting like this, they couldn't hold the tips of their blades off of the floor, Vampires and Werewolves had supernatural endurance, but this was just too much. Logvarine dropped his sword and it disappeared into a portal. Logelaine understood exactly what he was going to do; so he dropped his weapon and it hit the floor with a thud.

"You can't hurt anyone when your soul is trapped in 'Cold-Harbor' with Molag Bal." threatened Logvarine. His arm began to extend, his hair began to grow and his teeth were sharpening. Logelaine smiled through wicked yellow teeth.

"The 'Hunting-Grounds' will take you first!" he responded as his teeth began to grow, so big they were over his lips, and he was engulfed in a blood red aura. A few seconds later when he emerged from his red 'cocoon' his arms were folded in and his head down. He had darker eyes and light grey skin, his ears where extremely pointed and his head had hardly any hair on it, the hairs that were there were grey as well. His hands had morphed into muscular talons, poison dripped from their tips. He uncrossed his arms to reveal his muscular chest. Suddenly two small torn wings unfolded from his back spreading past his shoulders and then folding slightly as they relaxed. The only clothing he wore was a decorative battle skirt that covered only the insides of his now muscular legs. Logvarine was not surprised to see his new terrible form; he was still finishing his own transformation. Logvarine's ears pointed and grew hair – everything grew hair – and his snout extended as his skin turned dark and his eyes began to glow yellow; his armor stretched with him. Logelaine put his head up and smiled through razor sharp fangs, his nose was flat and his nostrils large. He looked like a bat almost. He began to float and a red aura emanated from his feet.

"_Last chance Logelaine!_" Logvarine growled; Logelaine threw a ball of magical ice back and forth in his hands as he waited for Logvarine to make the first move. "_I see… I will have to kill you then!_" Logelaine seemed unthreatened. Logvarine had been practicing with Magika in his beast form; he only hoped and prayed to Hircine that it would work. Logvarine held out his fur covered hand and focused, a fireball appeared; thank the divines.

"That's a nice trick, but it won't help you!" he threw the ice at Logvarine and it formed into a spear, Logvarine deflected it with his long clawed nails and leapt at Logelaine, he slammed the fire ball into the ground as Logelaine floated backwards to dodge. He looked up and lunged at him claws first, he dug into his chest and Logelaine screeched – like a bat – Logvarine had to fall back to Nirn to cover his ears. Blood black like tar oozed from the gash on Logelaine's chest and he winced. Logvarine took this opportunity to lunge again; he grabbed Logelaine by his legs and dragged him back down to the floor with a thud. Logelaine sat up from his laying position and dug into Logvarine's hairy back with his poison talons. Logvarine let go of his legs and stumbled backwards into the wall. Logelaine flew at him and smashed Logvarine's fur-ridden head into the wall, blood trickled from the gash on his head. Logvarine slashed sideways with his claws and made contact with Logelaine's neck, ripping some of the surface skin; he stepped back. The toxins were starting to affect Logvarine's sight, but he could survive it. He flexed his knees and pounced forward on Logelaine; he was very surprised as he fell onto his back, pain raced up his spine as he slammed against the floor. Logvarine formed fists with his paws and beat Logelaine in the face over and over.

"_You betrayed Serana you bastard! She trusted you!_" screamed Logvarine at his brother. Logelaine pushed off the ground with his tattered wings and threw Logvarine back at the wall; he skidded across the floor and caught a brick in his hands. He wound up and threw it at Logelaine; he hit him in the face. He recoiled from the hit and looked back at Logvarine with blood running down from a large wound on his forehead. Logelaine ran forward at Logvarine but disappeared into a swarm of bats, only to reappear behind him and punch him in the back; this sent him reeling across the balcony, next to the body of the arch-curate. He looked to the side and saw Logelaine's sword, it had a fire enchantment – a vampire's weakness. Logelaine flew at him as he grabbed the blade and raised it to his brother's level, it made contact with his hand. He screamed as it burned his delicate grey flesh and he staggered backwards. They were not far from the edge of the balcony; the balcony was at least a 200 foot fall. Logvarine dropped the weapon and ran at Logelaine who had no chance to react when Logvarine grabbed his torso and lifted him up. He struggled but the werewolf was too strong for him. Logvarine roared a howl from his throat and lobbed Logelaine off of the balcony. He had no time to grab anything and he was too far from the mountain to grab it; he was going to die. His wings couldn't help him fly; they were useless for that, more aesthetic than anything. He yelled every curse and prayer he was able to before he—

* * *

4E 204, present time...

Logelaine sat up in his bed, he was sweating like a horker in spring, his hands were cold and clammy and he was breathing like he hadn't been able to in years. It was a dream. It happened every so often, he would recall that night when he had almost died. That he survived the fall by falling into a hole in the ice, the divines themselves must have intervened for a miracle like that to occur. He sat up against the headboard with his head in his hands, shivering. Vampires don't shiver, they are resistant to the cold; masters of ice magic. Yet his body persisted to shake, he did not feel cold but he could not stop. That night Logvarine had thought he was dead; he had effectively fell from the mortal plane, only two people knew that he was alive until just days ago when he revealed himself to his brother at the embassy. He had been too weak once again, he was caught off guard by the power of his Thu'um and he almost paid for that with his life. He needed more power, but where could he look? He would have to scour all of Tamriel to find what he desired and he did not have time for that, he needed the power to destroy his brother now. His lips trembled as he spoke.

"The taller… they stand," he looked at the wall with an icy stare, "The harder… they fall…"


	19. Dark Skin, Cold Heart

"And this is Em-Shei, he's a werecrocodile." Logvarine had just finished introducing everyone to the Hound. "Now," he sat down a nearby table, everyone went back to what they were doing, "Weren't you going to tell me what happened to the other members, like Heeyen, where did he go?"

"Heeyen? Oh, he went to Valenwood to join one of those 'Nature-Based' werewolf tribes." He scoffed, "Softies, all of them." Logvarine made a slight shrug.

"I wouldn't pretend to know." The Hound made a look as if he had just remembered something, he said loudly:

"How is your brother doing?" the whole room went silent, the members of the pack seemed most confused. Logvarine's entire body tensed, he didn't know how to answer that question…

"He… left." Is what his answer was. Everyone went back to talking amongst themselves; the pack seemed to be integrating well with the members of the Vengeance. The Hound seemed as if he didn't understand.

"I… don't understand?" see.

"He left us, he's gone and we try not to talk about him."

"Oh, so he's… dead?" Logvarine shook his head no.

"Worse…"

* * *

4E 202, two years ago, not long before Logelaine's 'Death'…

"Where are you going you idiot!?" screamed Kagnor with Auriel's bow in his hands, it shone like the sun; a true piece of godly craftsmanship. Logelaine threw two scrolls on the ground at Saline's feet.

"Open them, and leave." They picked up the scrolls and began to unravel them.

"But what are-?" they opened the scrolls and then vanished into thin air; they were teleportation scrolls, single use so they couldn't come back. Logelaine had something to finish here. He walked from the balcony back into the temple in his flowing black robe, the remains of the betrayed lay everywhere, the floor, the stairs, impaled on ice spikes, pinned to the walls; Logelaine felt nothing as he walked past the ghastly scene. A figure appeared around the corner, it was Catath'een.

"Cat?" said a confused Logelaine, "Where are the rest of your brigands?" Cat spit on the icy ground and raised two daggers.

"They couldn't keep up fast enough…" she was breathing heavy, as if she were just running.

"Are you going to try and kill me?" he said in a serious tone, he had no time for jokes.

"No, I will ask you to come home with us." She made it clear her intentions were pure, but Logelaine's weren't so there was no point.

"I'll have you know," said Logelaine as he held out his hand, a daedric sword appeared out of the air, "that these will be your last living seconds." Cat looked surprised.

"I didn't believe Log' when he told me you had turned… but he was right…"

"Then slay the 'Beast' and be the hero this story needs, little kit!" he swept his hand through the air in a motion of disregard.

"I don't want to do this," she said, "but I may have to."

"Logvarine was always a S'wit, I couldn't tell his head from his arse half the time." Cat ignored him as they began stepping sideways, circling each other in a battle stance.

"I will make sure you can't hurt anyone else, bloodsucker." She raised her daggers into her attack stance.

"I won't suck your blood, simply out of respect," he told her, "but I don't appreciate comments like that…" he lashed out with his sword before she could even react and hit her with the blunt edge in the stomach. She regained quickly enough to block his downward attack, and push him back. Cat did a quick roll and jumped up above Logelaine, she nosedived down and he parried her attack, throwing her against the icy wall, she dropped both of her daggers. Logelaine leapt forward to slash at her, but she dodged to the side and grabbed one of her daggers, she slashed but only caught his robe. He slashed back at her but luckily for her, only sliced the surface of her armor. Cat rolled back but while she was recovering, Logelaine shot a cone of icy magic at her. Her body began to freeze, she couldn't move, she could barely even see through the glassiness of the ice that covered her eyes. She remembered seeing Logvarine walking past her, he didn't notice her. Logelaine said something to him and then he created a wall of ice between the two of them as Logelaine ran back onto the balcony; likely to prepare. She remembered Logvarine hammering on the ice barrier until it shattered, he came back three minutes later and finally noticed her, he screamed something – the ice blocked her ears – and then he grabbed the ice and as it melted he grabbed her seemingly lifeless body; he cried over her, and swore in Dunmeri a thousand times cursing Logelaine's name. As she awoke he cried tears of joy, and they sat in each other's arms for what seemed like forever. That was the day that Logvarine dreaded in his dreams, his nightmares; losing Cat before they could begin a life together like they had planned. They didn't check to confirm Logelaine's death; that may have been the biggest mistake they could have made.

* * *

"Is the skooma here good?" asked The Hound to Logvarine as they walked up and down the halls of the dwarven ruins; they seemed to go on forever. They connected to 'Blackreach' eventually, but they boarded up the entrance; Blackreach was too dangerous.

"Just as good as it ever was in any place other than Morrowind." They exchanged a good laugh and kept walking.

"Morrowind does make the best skooma." The Hound said as a matter of fact.

"Something I can be proud of." The Hound patted Logvarine's shoulder.

"You're a Nord at heart, and have the soul of a Dragon!" he pointed at Logvarine's chest, "You're only a Dark-elf skin deep." Logvarine grabbed his hand and put it down.

"The first two may be true," he explained, "But my dunmer heritage doesn't just go 'Skin Deep'." Hound threw his hands up.

"I think I hit a nerve!" he laughed.

"I'm serious, I'm a dark-elf and that's how it's supposed to be." They eventually made it to the smoky room that Logvarine went to almost daily, and when they opened the door, only Gatel and Tyr'ique were inside.

"Oh," said Logvarine, "I forgot to introduce, Tyr'ique the werelion," Tyr'ique made a stupid smile and waved, "and Gatel the werewolf." Gatel paid no attention as he took a toke on the skooma pipe. They closed the door as they sat down, not wanting the smoke to get out. Hound had placed healing magic on himself before coming to the skooma room, he didn't want to overdose – dark elves and Khajiit smoked a lot more than the other races. He took a very long drag on the pipe that he brought along after putting some of their skooma in it.

"Mmmmm…" he said. "This is really good stuff." He said setting it down, realizing he took far too long a drag as he slouched down on the bench.

"Are you already done, Hound?" asked Logvarine as he put the pipe to his mouth. The Hound sat back up.

"_No_." he said still holding his breath; he exhaled, "I just need a break…" the others laughed.

* * *

The next day Logvarine introduced the others he hadn't before and then went to train Rauland like he had promised he would. Hound came along for the training; he was curious to see his former protégé's, protégé. He was certainly impressed when Rauland took a casters stance and started to throw around complex spells as if they were junior magic tricks used for parties. Logvarine trained simultaneously with his student which intrigued Hound, they formed a bond that most students and teachers couldn't.

"And you say you met him when he was trying to kill you?" he asked Logvarine.

"No, he was WITH someone who was trying to kill me; he had no love for him, he did not mourn that man's passing," Logvarine turned to his apprentice who was showing signs of slowing, "KEEP UP THAT FORM!" that made him straighten up, "Instead we went straight to training." Logvarine put his hands together and there was a green flash, he disappeared.

"What in the—" said The Hound.

"I told you I'd been practicing too." He laughed. Rauland stopped his training and groaned.

"Master– I mean Logvarine, when will you teach me that!?"

"When you are ready…" he said in a cryptic voice. Rauland shrugged.

"C'mon just show me how to—" he noticed the knife by his throat now.

"If you can't see that coming," he explained to his student with a knife at his throat as he rematerialized behind him, "then we still need to train your perceptions." He flicked the knife around and put it back into its sheath; on RAULAND's belt.

"You love to toy with me don't you?" asked Rauland. Logvarine laughed and started levitating a nearby candle for amusement.

"It keeps me entertained."


	20. Guardian Angel

4E 201, three years ago…

"What is your problem with how I act!?" screamed Tylnar at Rytel. They had just made it out of Whiterun after completing their quest for the Jarl, and taking care of his dragon problem. They had not been fully prepared for a dragon attack like the one at Helgen so soon. The way up the mountain path to High Hrothgar was a treacherous road to travel, the seven thousand steps were slippery from the morning frost and the cold of the mountains made tensions run high among the group. Rytel and Tylnar had gotten into a rather venomous argument on how Tylnar treated others; they were right in each other's faces.

"You lack subtlety," said Rytel, "you get far too mad, far too easily!" Logvarine understood that Orcs will be Orcs, but Tylnar was a tad bit excessive when he dealt with people of less-than-average disposition towards him or his race.

"Listen here you son-of-a-Cliffracer, I know you think you're smarter than me, and Malacath knows that you probably are;" Tylnar looked at him with an absolutely toxic glare, "but he also knows that I could crush your head without even thinking about it…" Rytel approached the Orc man who was noticeably a foot taller than him.

"Was that a threat?" he whispered to his chest as he looked up into his brown eyes; Rytel's eyes blazed like a raging storm of crimson. Tylnar looked like he was going to get serious so Logvarine stepped in; he approached the two and put each of his metal covered hands on their chests as he pushed them away from one another.

"Cool your heads you N'wah!" he shouted at the two of them; Rytel backed down immediately. Tylnar – being an Orc – couldn't let these transgressions go so easily. For an Orc there was no bridge for the water to pass under, no wind for the threats to be gone with; the past was the present and the present was the past, and feuds were not so easily forgotten.

"Get out of my way Logvar!" he hollered as he tried to push past the dunmer. Logvarine knew he couldn't let him get near Rytel or there would be problems. He wound up with his left arm and struck Tylnar in his toothy jaw; the Orc couldn't take the hit from his rock-hard (not to mention ice cold) gauntlets and fell to the icy dirt.

"My name is Logvarine…" he said. Daneg walked over and helped Tylnar to his feet; Tylnar never gave Logvarine problems again. Cat joked to him that it was the reason his father left him in charge, because he could take charge. They continued up to the top of the Throat of the world and had their audience with the Grey-Beards; only Logvarine and Nivard were allowed in to see them.

"So you have come…" said a long grey-bearded man.

"Yes, we heard your summons and wish for you to teach us the ways of the voice." Answered Logvarine, the man raised his head and unfolded his arms. He spoke in a commanding voice.

"Very well…"

* * *

5 days later…

They had made it to Riften finally; the home of the Skyrim thieves guild. Cat had made contact with them when a young foot-pad attempted to snatch her plump coin purse; he showed them through the rat-ways in exchange for his freedom and a small sum of the gold he had bidden to lift from her person. There they met Brynjolf, Vex, and Delvin; Cat told who they were and – right from the get-go – were in good with the thieves guild. Logvarine introduced himself but ultimately had no time to be playing Robin-Hood with the kiddies while above ground a war was being waged; an unwinnable war for both sides. He would need to work both angles, Ulfric and Tullius. He had to admit, he hated lying to the General, he was a good man, but it was a necessary evil in war-times. He knew right from the beginning that it was all a Thalmor plot; Ulfric's rise to power, The mass amounts of Imperial troops in Skyrim, the civil unrest, all of it was a fabrication by the true enemy of the Empire. The Aldmeri dominion was clever in that way, but it was a vile tactic that not even Logvarine could resort to in the most desperate of conditions. Lying was one thing, but starting a war, sacrificing lives for naught but to weaken your enemy when those lives had nothing to do with the conflict to begin with; it was unforgivable. They were simply setting the scene for the eventual genocide of the humans, making nords revolt so they had a reason to slay them en masse; truly despicable. He tried to not hold resentment for the Thalmor, passions such as hatred could lead to clouded perceptions, but it was nigh impossible. He went for a walk around Riften topside of the Rat-way to clear his head; his thoughts were more tangled than Ulfric's plans of attack (Which were as a matter of fact, pretty tangled up, he was a good Jarl but a confused tactician). It was night time now, and as he walked down the streets paved with stone and lined with wooden boards, he slid his hand along the wooden railing as he slowly made his way to the docks; the trees here were always autumn colours weren't they. As he opened the door to the docks and walked down the steep wooden steps onto the pier, he felt relaxed by the smell of the water and of the forest; it smelt like fresh rain in the spring time. He made a slow gait down towards the water and stopped as he leaned over the damp wood railing. The water reflected the light that shone off of Masser, the larger of the two moons; Secondus was nowhere to be seen. He breathed in the moist twilight air as his lunges relaxed after a hard past days' effort of hiking; they didn't have any horses to ride, and no carriages to drive. No amount of training could have prepared them for the attack on Helgen, or for the carnage that followed. The charred remains of the innocents who simply wanted to see an end to the war, of the soldiers who fought so hard to keep them alive, and of the rebels who only wanted to fight for their homeland and for the glory of the Nords. He reached down and touched his Daedric sword that his father had forged for him before they had left; he missed home. In a way this was home, he belonged here on the front lines of the battle waging war against the enemies of the empire, he would avoid harming the Stormcloaks if he could; they were only pawns on the Thalmor's game board after all. But it was easier said than done, they would not simply lay down their weapons because he says he is a friend. He hoped that one day, after it was all over, that this cold, harsh, unforgiving wasteland of a province could feel like his home too. He took a single Septim from his coin pouch and flipped it into the water, and then he left for the bee and barb.

* * *

He opened the door to the tavern that they would be staying at – The Bee and Barb – they had booked all of the remaining rooms (with a small amount of help from the guild, the thieves guild's intimidation factor went a long ways) but they were paying so Keerava was happy. Cavek and Em-Shei had to bunk together, and Daneg and Erikaly were sharing a bed; Tylnar and Nivard were going to be dividing a room and Rytel had the room across from theirs. Logvarine and Catath'een were going to have to share a room as well. When he walked in all of his friends were downstairs, laughing and drinking with the locals; at least no one was starting any fights (Tylnar must have learned his lesson), all except cat. He remained on the first floor for maybe ten minutes socializing with the locals and apologizing to Keerava for any inconvenience they might have incurred. After saying good night he stepped his way up the staircase to the second floor and strode across the wooden floor boards trying not to make too much noise with his heavy boots. He grabbed the handle on the door to his room and pushed it open. He didn't expect what he saw on the other side, and his face was so flushed that it stood out clearly even on his dark grey skin. Beyond the entry way was Cat; completely naked from head to toe with her back turned to the door, she must have been washing up and getting ready for bed because her armor was neatly laid out by the wall and her night clothes were on the bed. Logvarine had thought there would be two beds; there must have been a mix up. Regardless he couldn't help but stare, at her silver fur and brown Khajiit markings – the only thing covering her unmentionable area was her silver tail spotted with brown patches of fur – even though he tried to look away. Eventually he willed his hand to his eyes and spoke.

"Your fur isn't as long as other Khajiits'." He giggled. She let out a yelp of surprise as she grabbed a nearby towel and held it scrunched in front of herself as she turned to face him.

"How long have you been there!?" she asked with an astonished look on her feline face. Logvarine walked casually over to the side of the room opposite her armor and began taking off his own armor; he set it down beside the wall as well.

"Only a few seconds, it's okay..." he was still wearing his own clothes beneath that however. She let out a sigh of relief and closed the door. Logvarine assumed that she had at least SOMETHING on now so he turned around; it was the exact opposite, she had dropped the towel on the ground and he could see… well, everything… "What are you doing!?" he asked as he turned his head away from her. She scoffed.

"We've known each other for a long time, this isn't anything you haven't seen before." She said jokingly. Logvarine let out a sigh and turned back, she was sitting on the bed now.

"That time back in the tower was an accident," he explained to her, "and even then I didn't see… all of you." She moved across the bed and got underneath the covers. He sat down on the bed as well.

"You think I don't know?" she asked alluringly, Logvarine blushed even more.

"Whatever are you talking about?" he said moving his head to the side, trying not to make eye contact. She moved over closer to him and felt his arm; tingles raced up and down his entire body.

"How you would check on me in the middle of the night as I slept, back in the tower; like a guardian angel."

"How did you-?" she put a finger to his mouth.

"I've always known that you cared about me, you tried to hide it," she let out a slight giggle, "but it was for nothing; you can't hide anything from me for long…" he felt his heart nearly beating out of his chest. "I had a talk with my mother about you before we left." He could now only hope that she said good things.

"W-what did she say?" he asked. Cat reached up and touched his face.

"That you would make a better mate than any Khajiit she had ever met." Just then she sat up and kissed him. Logvarine kissed back. They sat in one another's loving embrace. He couldn't believe this was happening, he had always been interested, but no one ever dated dark elves unless they too were dark elves; being moderately ugly as a rule. He stayed the night with her in his arms; they didn't need another bed…

* * *

4E 201, a week later…

The days went by slow when Cat was nearby, when she was in his arms, and when they ate, and slept, and talked together. The others had soon caught on to what they thought of each other. They did everything together, and they were always close to one another, when they talked to each other they stood in each other's arms. If someone didn't know yet then they would need their common sense evaluated. The recruitment process had been going good for the past couple days, but now they were struggling to find other brave souls with no current allegiance in the war. They were waiting for Nivard and Tylnar to get back from a dwarven ruin they had found; they needed the living space.

"Hey," waved Rytel to Logvarine, "Come here." Logvarine looked up at him and sighed, he was planning out his predictions of the upcoming war on a map on the table. He approached the other dunmer and Rytel handed him a scroll. He opened it and Logvarine put his hood down and gaped his jaw in shock.

"These are messages detailing Stormcloak troop movements!"

"I got them from a scout who killed a messenger out in the mountains." He turned and motioned his hand in the direction of the exit to the tent; you could see the mountains outside. "You'll have to wait if you want the empire's movements."

He wrapped the message back up "Thank you for bringing this to my attention…" he walked back to the table and let the scroll roll across its surface. He took a swig of his tankard and put it down on the corner of the map, and he began mapping out the troop positions…

* * *

4E 204, the present…

Dygar had just gotten back from a trip to Solitude, he was drenched in sweat and he was breathing overly fast. "Lo-Lo… Logvarine!" he managed before he tried to force his breathing to slow and fell to the floor gasping instead.

"What is it?" said Logvarine as he ran down the hall from his throne and grabbed Dygar's back.

"The-the Thalmor are…" he needed time to breathe again; he was a bulky man but his lunges weren't as big as his muscles.

"Are what!?" he asked, Dygar caught his breath finally.

"They're planning on invading Solitude!"


	21. My Moon, My Star

"And are you sure that they will have the ships ready in time?" asked Logvarine to Cavek. He crossed his arms and stuck his nose up in the air.

"My connections in the Alik'r fleet are very reliable." Logvarine rolled his eyes.

"I asked a question, now answer it." Cavek let his arms down.

"Yes, they're getting in position right now."

"Good," said Logvarine, "We set out for the north now; we have no time left to waste." Nivard walked up to him.

"I'm coming!" he said.

"Fine… I will leave Cat in charge." He told them, "Wait for me at the docks; I'll be there."

* * *

He arrived at the docks they had built around a kilometer from the cave, two beautifully crafted war ships sat in the harbor yearning for the open seas. Around 40 men were on each boat, Logvarine was the captain of the "Moon and Star" and it was a fine vessel indeed. Its hull was painted a dark blue and it had an elegantly designed naval ram on its front.

"Hey there Cap'n!" said the harbor manager as Logvarine walked by with his crossbow on his back and his sword at the ready. He continued walking. "Take care on those waves, storm comin'!" He hollered out at him. Logvarine waved back without turning around. He made his way on to his ship and Nivard boarded his own ship, the "Wings of Alduin".

"We have to get moving or we won't make it!" Hollered Captain Nivard as he took the helm of his ship. Mages lined the sides of both ships; they were preparing for orders to fire on the enemy, the ships had only a few cannons as explosive substances were few and far between in Tamriel.

"Well then let's go!" he shouted back. He ordered the sails to be loosened and they were off.

* * *

Half a day later they had arrived at the ambush point. They dropped anchor near the shore of a nearby island to the north of the Skyrim and Hammerfell border, making it look like they were simple traders. Logvarine's spotter in the crow's nest spotted the Thalmor fleet about two minutes ago and now he could see the Alik'r navy set up behind another island. Cavek suggested that they go now and block their exit to solitude. They waited for a minute or more and then – on Logvarine's orders – loosened the sail to full, and they rocketed forward with the power of the wind. The storm was coming in fast; it was only a mile from them now. As they approached the path of intersection with the enemy fleet they went with no sails until they stopped right in their way.

"Happy now?" asked Logvarine, Nivard was circling around them to get them from the side. The Thalmor had at least seven ships, but what Logvarine and his friends lacked in numbers they made up for in skill and strength. Three Alik'r ships waited for the signal; Logvarine turned the Moon and Star to face the target.

"Mages! To the front of the ship, open fire on my order!" he commanded as he put his hand in the air. Energy began to emanate from his hand as a fire ball formed; it shot from his palm and into the sky. That was the signal. Suddenly the Alik'r ships sped towards the fleet firing balls of ice and fire at the ships; they returned fire. Nivard sped the wings of Alduin at the fleet as well, he turned the helm and opened fire from the cannons. Logvarine and his ship were racing towards the battle.

"Now!" he threw his arm down and the mages began shooting fireballs and lightning bolts at the ship in the lead. The ships were far from them, but they would make literal contact with them soon enough; he let go of the giant wheel.

"Cavek, take the helm, ram the ship in the nose from the side diagonally." Cavek grasped the spokes of the wheel in his pale hands and turned slightly to their right; Logvarine was waiting on the front railing of the ship with a group of warriors. Soon enough the enemy frigate was right beside them. The Thalmor ship wasn't much bigger than their ship. Cavek spun the wheel and turned the naval ram on the first ship. They rammed into the ship and punctured its hull; they were hooked in.

"Board 'em!" he screamed as he jumped up on the ship, his compatriots followed after him with weapons drawn. As they climbed up onto the deck of the enemy ship they were met by a whole five squads of soldiers. Logvarine ran at the horde of Thalmor with his flaming blade 'Paarthurnax' unsheathed and slashed one in the gut; he brought the elf's back down and kneed him in the face, he turned around just as one of his soldiers impaled an Altmer with his spear. Logvarine could feel the air around him shifting so he moved his head to the side and a fireball flew past him, not even an inch away from his nose; they had mages too. He lazily dispatched one soldier that ran at him by chopping into the man's shoulder; it cut through him like Scrib jelly. He discharged a giant cone of fire out of his palms at a trio of Altmer; they ran around screaming as their flesh burned to the bones. He had lost two men to the enemy so far, but the Thalmor had lost five just by his hands, around 11 in total. He threw Paarthurnax seemingly at random but then a soldier ran around the corner and got its bone blade in his chest as he fell to the ground. The dead elf's friends came around the corner now; Logvarine close lined one of them as he rolled across the deck and grabbed his sword out of the soldier he had hit. He stood up and swung; he caught the other elf's neck and took his head clean off of his shoulders. The one he had close lined was on the ground; a woman Altmer. He stabbed his blade into her chest and yanked it out of her corpse as blood spurted all over his armor. A large group of Thalmor Justicars busted through the door to the stairs leading below deck and engaged the invaders. Logvarine grabbed his crossbow from his back and shot a bolt at one of the Justicars; he hit him in the back and he fell over writhing in agony, a nord man came over and stabbed the man in the back while he was still on the deck. Logvarine was going to go find the captain but he tripped and fell to his rump when something shook the boat; Nivard rammed this ship too. Two of the enemies Ships were already sunken, the survivors were taken prisoner. Nivard jumped onto the deck and cleaved a man across the chest with his war axe; the wound was frosted over with magic ice left from his enchantment. He raised his arm and elbowed the man in the head knocking him own. He turned around and punched another Elf in the face; he was killed instantly from the blunt force of the Nord's muscular arms. Logvarine jumped higher to the area of the deck where the helmsman was. He stabbed a black cloaked elven woman in the shoulder and hit her in the gut with his palm; he took the blade out and stabbed her through the back as she bent over in pain. Fiery arrows blitzed across the starry sky on the cold winters night, two lit the mast of the ship ablaze as black smoke clouded the air above them. He ran up the stairs to the steering wheel and was met by three Thalmor agents.

"We're taking on water sir!" shouted an Altmer man who had just came from below deck; he was right, the deck was starting to slant and his ship was no longer hooked on; the Moon and Star's crew was returning to the ship slowly; he would have to make it quick. He turned to the crew of three and shouted.

"_LIZ SLEN NUS!_" after a quick flash of blue light, the three men were completely frozen in ice, so was the wheel. He smashed the frozen wheel with his hand and began to run towards his own ship. He was knocked over by the tremor that rocked the ship, as it split in half. He was sent rolling backwards and he slammed against the back railing of the ship. He regained his composer and hooked his clawed hands into the deck and started to climb, the ship had tilted quite steeply. He reached the crack finally and made a daring jump across the gap; he landed on the other half of the ship – which was luckily less slanted than the other. He climbed up the anchor chain of his own ship and was helped on by his crew mates. Three of the enemy ships were gone now, and only one of the Alik'r ships was destroyed.

"Get up beside that one!" he commanded to the current Helmsman. The current pilot of the vessel steered beside the adjacent vessel.

"Fire!" shouted Cavek; the men on deck and below deck let the cannon balls fly and two of them hit the powder store in the back of the ship, the whole captain's cabin was caught in the explosion and soon enough that ship was sinking too. He heard another loud explosion and looked over just in time to see the other two Alik'r ships burst into raging red flames. Logvarine could see a slim figure gracefully hopping across the wreckage of the ships and then into the water, it began to swim towards the last remaining pair of Thalmor ships.

"What in the hell happened!?" called Nivard as he pulled his ship up beside theirs. Logvarine ran over to the side and grabbed onto a rope which he then used to swing over to the other boat.

"Pull up beside those two ships!" he told Nivard, he released the wheel and handed it to Em-Shei. Nivard jumped down to the lower deck and caught Logvarine's shoulder.

"You have a plan, right?" Logvarine brushed off his shoulder, and pointed at the ship again.

"I need to find out what just detonated those two ships."

Nivard made a face, "It was the ENEMY you daft moron!" Logvarine maintained his cool, "We need to sink them now-!" Logvarine interrupted with a raised hand.

"I saw a man jump off of those ships after they exploded, he was the only survivor and he climbed on to the enemy ship; I'm going." He walked to the front of the boat to wait for contact.

"I'm coming too!" said Nivard who was running alongside him. Logvarine smiled and unsheathed his flaming saber. The ship pulled up beside them; willingly it seemed, like they would try to board them.

"Everyone stay here and fight ON the ship! Me and Nivard are going to get bloody!" he cut a rope on the side of the boat and swung onto the biggest ship in the fleet of only two ships, Nivard followed. They landed with a roll as Logvarine flipped up from his rolling position and kicked a Thalmor in the face; he was knocked out by the forceful kick. Logvarine grabbed another soldier's face and sent electricity arcing through the man's body; he fell to the wood deck with a thump. Nivard decapitated a woman and then threw her body at another Altmer; he was getting rather crude in his methods. Nivard threw his gauntlets off and they disappeared just like they so often did with Logvarine; he did the same with his boots. Long brown fur grew from his arms and from in between the cracks in his armor. His snout elongated beyond ten times its normal length and his ears shifted to face more forward, like a bear's ears. His giant paws had the pads of a bear's paw, and giant claws to tear through flesh. He ran at one of the Thalmor soldiers – bulldozing two other soldiers in the process. Nivard impaled the man with his razor sharp claws and bit into his side; he dropped the man's lifeless body and turned to the next kill. Logvarine ran off in the chaos to find the captain, he searched everywhere except for the cabin. When he made it to the cabin and opened the door, he saw a dunmer man hovering over the kneeling Altmer captain with his teeth sunk into his neck; the elf looked up as he entered and threw the captain to the floor, he wiped his goatee of the blood and then smiled. He hissed as he spoke through his fangs.

"Why do we always find each other…?"


	22. The Sons

He had never expected to have met with Logelaine so soon after the incident at the Embassy, that he would be fully healed already. The explosions and the sound of burning wood were drowned out simply by the darkening silence of the room they stood in; the room gave a feeling of separation from the rest of the world. The body of the recently bloodless (former) captain of the fleet lay on the floor beside Logelaine's feet; blood coated the floor boards, and the same blood dripped from Logelaine's hands. Logvarine and Logelaine stood for a long time, looking at each other, waiting, listening to the ambience of the battle raging on outside, the sounds of death and fiery destruction.

"Why are you here?" asked Logvarine with his blade in his right hand, so if Logelaine were to pull anything right now Logvarine would be ready for him. Logelaine put his hands in an 'I don't know' position, like a half-shrug.

"Just thought I'd stop by and cause you some more grief," he let a wicked sharp smile creep up his eerie, dark face, "for old time's sake…" Logvarine did not seem amused.

"You can come up with a better excuse than that, I'm sure." He pointed his sword at his brother; he wanted him to know that this was no time for jokes. Logelaine took his own sword – his old tattered katana – out of its sheath and pointed it mockingly at his brother in the same fashion that he had done.

"You didn't give me very much time to consider a serious excuse." Logvarine had always wanted to try and save his brother, but ever since the night when Cat had almost died, Logvarine could not trust him anymore, he would have to be dealt with harshly.

"You don't have to fight me," he suggested to Logelaine, "Just go back to whatever hole you climbed out of; we'll forget everything that transpired between us and it will be over."

Logelaine looked as if he was checking his nails; he dodged the offer completely. "How is your little furry play-thing doing? – you know, Cat, I think it was – she is still alive right?" Logvarine could hear the grinding of his own teeth as he tried to hold back his anger; Logelaine had hit a nerve he should not have hit, "I almost felt bad turning her into a living ice sculpture." He made a slight giggle, Logvarine was about to hit his breaking point, "Oh, and at the Embassy, HA! You should have seen her face when I ran that Argonian fellow through!" Logelaine was not prepared for the impact from the side of Logvarine's sword; his skin was burned by its harsh fire enchantment. He was sent stumbling sideways into a bookcase, books covered his body and he tried to push them away

"I am going to kill you," Logvarine declared with Paarthurnax pointed at the ground near Logelaine, "and then I shall carry your body to our father and present you to him," he was in a state of pure rage, "WITH A CHUNK OF FLESH TAKEN FROM YOUR NECK!" he calmed himself, but he was still breathing heavily, "I will pick the flesh from your bones and feast upon your heart." for the first time ever Logelaine wore a look of true dramatic surprise on his face; his brother wasn't kidding this time. Logelaine shrugged off the books and screamed, lashing out at his brother with the old katana. They jumped around the cramped captain's cabin throwing magic and exchanging blows from one another's blades. Just like every time they had ever sparred with each other, they could easily predict each other's movements as if it were a simple rhythm.

"Why do we fight with each other brother!?" screamed Logelaine over the clash of their weapons, "You could have joined me and we would have decimated the Empire!" Logvarine was just trying to focus on his blocking and parries.

"We can't endanger civilians like that, that is why father never liked you; you are far too reckless!" he slashed up and left a mark on Logelaine's cheek, the enchantment on Logvarine's weapon charred the vampire's sensitive flesh and forced him to recoil, he hit the table with his backside. He held his hand to his face and hissed. The fight continued on and they still flung spells at each other like they were not even trying. Logelaine was getting faster and faster, his adrenaline kicked in and he would not stop with the continuous slashes at Logvarine, he still blocked them all. After a while of fighting and Logvarine getting a few hits against his brother, the tide turned. Logvarine made a bad parry and the blade slipped from his hands; he tried to block the sword with his gauntlet but the sword bolted past his hand and placed itself in between his shoulder blades, above his heart. The ebony mail tried to resist the blow but the sword was strong enough to pierce the metal. Blood gushed from the wound and Logvarine had to bite his lip to stop the pain from getting to him. He recoiled from the blow and stumbled backwards while Logelaine laughed at him.

"I have waited a long time for this…" he lifted his bloodied sword to his mouth and licked it clean of Logvarine's blood. He shivered and set his sword back to his side. "Have you been smoking skooma lately?" he asked. Logvarine was shocked. He couldn't believe what had just happened, that Logelaine was able to break through his defense. Logvarine held his wounded left shoulder with his right hand; blood ran down his metal gauntlet to drip onto the floor. He attempted to stand up as straight as he could, he let his arms fall to his side as he turned and made ready in a battle stance; a hand to hand stance. Logelaine made a face and scoffed at his brother.

"You," he pointed, "are going to fight me," he pointed to himself, "Unarmed?" he laughed and nearly let his katana slip from his hands. Logvarine couldn't take his nonsense anymore, he would end this. He ran at his brother and Logelaine held out his sword; Logvarine disappeared. Logelaine did not have time to react when his brother gripped him by the neck and put him into a choke hold. Vampires were strong; this was not Logvarine's best of ideas. Logelaine struggled for but a moment before he threw his brother back against the desk and went to slash him with his sword. As he brought the blade down Logvarine kicked him in the gut and knocked the blade from his grasp with a single swift punch; the sword landed across the room with its blade planted firmly in the floor. Logelaine was bewildered, but he regained his strength and grabbed Logvarine by the legs. He hurled him across the room into the wall; he left a large indent in the wood. He stood up as his brother ran across the room to punch him. Logvarine ducked and pushed his brother's punch up higher into the air than he had expected; he landed a blow on his stomach and kicked Logelaine away. Logelaine landed across the room, right by his sword. Logvarine left a trail of blood as he darted at Logelaine with his fists raised. Logelaine took his sword and raised it hoping to cut Logvarine's hand in two; this did not go as he intended. Logvarine screamed as he smashed his gauntlet against the blade of the katana; his hand was completely covered in a dark substance, the armor must have been doing it. The katana made contact and then snapped in two with a *CLING* sound, the blade fell to the floor and rattled back and forth as it stopped moving. Logelaine looked as the blade turned into a red dust and only the hilt remained. He made a slight moaning sound as his jaw was gaped open. Logvarine was just as surprised, but he didn't have time to be frozen. He punched his brother in the face and then grabbed the hilt of his former sword from his hands; he bludgeoned him over the head with it too. Logelaine was still trying to recover from the hit and had no time to react when Logvarine jumped on his chest and began to punch him continuously in the face as he lay against the table. He managed to push his brother off of him by hitting him in his wounded shoulder; However as Logelaine went to stand up he noticed Logvarine in an awkward stance with his head tilted back and-

"_FUS…_" Logelaine had no time to do anything, "_RO…_" he could only watch as he was sent flying; papers and other light objects began to float around in the gust of wind that was forming, "_**DAH!**_" both Logelaine and the desk were sent flying through the window in the back of the cabin, he came out the other side and landed on the deck with fire surrounding him everywhere. Logvarine stepped through the mess of glass and wood to see his brother bleeding on the ground. Logelaine had glass in his neck, his head, and his back, everywhere. He cringed as he sat up and looked at the fire surrounding him.

"What's the matter?" asked Logvarine, blood was still gushing from the wound but he did not seem to care, "Dark elves are supposed to love fire! Born from the ashes and our souls forged in the bubbling bowels of the red mountain; Am I wrong?" he looked at his brother with a raised brow. Logelaine hated it when he brought up the topic of his vampirism in this light, making him look like an unfaithful dark elf. Logelaine stood up but fell back to his knees, he couldn't handle the pain; he vomited blood to his side. Logvarine almost felt sorry for him, he could have redeemed himself sooner, but now it was far passed being too late. Logvarine slowly stepped inch by inch to his brother as Fireballs flew through the air and the ship was rocked by the odd stray cannonball. He stopped just a foot from Logelaine and stared down at him; Logelaine's breathing was clearly audible and he grasped his own shoulders with each hand. He was shivering.

"Well…" he managed to whisper from between his blood covered lips, his breath was frozen in the air from the cold winter night, even with the fire, "aren't you g-g-going to f-f-finish me?" Logvarine wanted nothing more than to kill his _Brother_; he almost loathed calling him by such a title.

"No…" he said, Logelaine looked up at him, "You will be taken prisoner, and you will answer for your crimes-!" Logvarine was interrupted by an ebony covered fist striking him in the jaw; Logvarine was thrown to the ground by the sheer force of the punch. He looked up and saw that Logelaine was nowhere to be found. His breathing began to speed up, and up, and up.

"**DAMMIT!**" his scream shook the boat, "WHERE DID YOU GO!?" he screamed at the sky from over the sounds of battle; his brother was gone, he had him in his sights and he could have killed him. Now any chance of ending their feud today was gone. He walked back into the cabin holding his jaw and grabbed his sword, but he looked over and saw something. Logelaine's hilt was still on the floor, coated in his blood. He looked away and walked toward the door of the cabin, as he opened it he saw that the ship was covered in fire; he would have to make a mad dash to make it through, it was too hot even for a dark elf. He ran past the burning corpses of men and mer and once he had reached the front of the ship he flexed his leg muscles and summoned every last ounce of energy that remained in his broken body. He jumped and landed on the deck of the Wings of Alduin, Nivard helped him to his feet and gave him a look of worry.

"What happened in there?" he asked, Logvarine couldn't tell him how close he was, that he let him slip away from right in between his fingers, could he?

"I let Logelaine get away..." he apparently could tell him; Nivard looked confused.

"Logelaine was there!?"

"I'll…" he felt as if he were going to collapse, "I'll explain later, just get us home…"


	23. Treason on the Horizon

"How does he always know where we're going!?" Logvarine slammed his fist down on the stone table that his lieutenants sat around, and instantly regretted it as pain shot up his right arm; a result of the last battle with his brother.

"Calm down Logvarine! We need to think about this." Rytel grabbed his left shoulder and slowly lowered him into his chair at the table. He never realized how badly he had been injured until after he returned. Logvarine accepted his friend's help.

"I… I still cannot grasp that we did not finish him off." He shivered slightly, "Get some candles in here, I'm freezing."

"Nivard, you were there; what happened?" Em-shei questioned. Nivard looked up from his time caught in thought and shrugged.

"I never saw them fight; the only person you can ask is him…" he put his head down again; he was obviously very tired from the battle as well.

"I… I could have killed him, someone punched me and… then he was gone."

"That doesn't make much sense, Logvarine!" Tylnar scoffed at him.

"Someone took him and ran, pig-brain; it makes perfect sense!" Rytel countered.

"What did you just say!?" The Orc put his hands on the table and rose to his feet.

"I'm sorry; did I stutter!?"

"ENOUGH!" everyone looked over as Logvarine wiped the cold sweat from his face and tried to slow his heavy breathing while he stood up to tell them he was serious, "You two have been at each other's throats since we got here! I've had plenty of it, and I'm sick of it!" he entered into a coughing fit and had to sit back down.

"I'm sorry, Log'." Said Rytel sincerely; Tylnar just grumbled something from under his breath and sat back down with his arms crossed. Logvarine received concerned looks from Cat; he nodded and held his hand out to her to signify that he did not need help.

"It's fine, just… I want to tell you to piss off sometimes… both of you!" he pointed to Tylnar who shook his head angrily.

"Is this how you run your pack, Logvarine?" Asked the pack leader off to the side of the meeting, "You need to bite more than you bark!"

"I know that, hound; leave me to run this 'Pack' as I see fit."

Samuel leaned against the wall near the Hound, "I think we should all take a break and leave this for another day; just a suggestion." He said. That was the best idea Logvarine had heard all day.

"Thank you Sam, we'll leave this for tomorrow then." Logvarine declared. Everyone got up out of their seats and walked off towards their quarters. Logvarine just sat; sat and pondered, what kind of people Logelaine had in his employ, because that was one strong punch. When he was not paying attention the two werewolves sat down beside him, and Samuel put his hand on the dark elf's shoulder. Samuel always had such long white hair; and Logvarine had never found out the reason behind it.

"We're here to help; the whole pack is!" he said reassuringly. Logvarine smiled an earnest smile.

"I have seldom met such a respectable Cyrodillian in my life, Sam…" the imperial smiled back and helped his friend to his feet by the shoulder; The Hound took his other shoulder.

"Let's get you to bed." He said.

* * *

Logvarine awoke in the morning to Catath'een laying her head against his breast while he listened to the echoes of people talking down the many halls of the ruins. She snored like a kitten; he actually thought it was quite cute sounding and decided against rousing her to get out of bed. He watched her for the longest time; this was what he always dreamed of since he had met her. She was his life, even if she was not what most Dunmer would consider a suitable mate. She stretched her mouth in a yawn and looked up at Logvarine.

"How long have you been staring at me like that?" she smiled. Logvarine blushed and stuttered for a good second before he spoke.

"… Long enough." He said hoping that she would not consider it creepy. She smiled so he assumed he was off of the metaphorical hook.

"Let us get something to eat, yes." She felt his face with her soft fingers.

"Agreed."

They took only a few minutes to get dressed and then went into the mess hall where everyone was talking and generally being merry. Cat was wearing her red robe and Logvarine decided that today was just as good a day as any to wear the Arch-mage robe he had received from the previous leader of the College of Winterhold. They walked hand in hand over to the table where Daneg and Erikaly were sitting in each other's arms and sat across from them.

"How are you two doing?" asked Logvarine to the couple.

"Things 'ave been complicated; you know, with my new arm and what not." Daneg's right arm was over Erikaly's shoulder, but he raised his left 'arm' to show his point.

"I can see how that would… get in the way." Logvarine almost laughed when he realized how what he said could be misconstrued as sexual.

"You are sick!" laughed Erikaly as she slapped the table with her palm.

The four of them talked and ate for half an hour before a courier arrived and the guards escorted him to Logvarine.

"This is for you, sir." Logvarine took the envelope and replaced it with a bag of septims.

"Thank you very much, you may go." The guards escorted him out of the cave and Logvarine sat in front of Daneg and Erikaly while he opened the message.

"Quentil has agreed to find us a Priest of Mara for the private ceremony, and he wishes to come to the wedding himself!" he said in surprise, it was not expected that a priest of Talos (Practicing in secret) would make the Trek to Skyrim only for a wedding; even that of a close friend.

"That is wonderful news!" said Erikaly as she grabbed Logvarine's hand and smiled at him, "When are you having the ceremony?"

"He says that he can be here with another priest in a week's time."

"Then we'd better prepare!" Daneg suggested. Logvarine smiled; and then he could hear something coming from behind him. It was the sound of a blade being unsheathed and it was directly behind him so told his sensitive werewolf ears. He swung his leg around the bench and kicked the small dagger from the man's hand – he was an imperial. Logvarine punched the Imperial in his face and then grabbed his neck.

"… You?" Logvarine noticed that it was one of the new recruits that had been brought in for evaluation a few days back; traitors within his ranks.

"The… Thalmor will, have… *Choke* their revenge!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Logvarine wound up with his other fist and struck the man's face with his knuckles, "Bring him to the Interrogation room!" he demanded to the nearby guards. Logvarine cringed as they took the man away, that required every ounce of strength in his broken body to pull off; hopefully it would pay off and he would have some answers.


	24. Faulty Scrolls

"Who are you?" asked Logvarine as he paced back and forth in front of the chair that held his prisoner. He struggled to get free from the stone chair and leather straps. The imperial's left eye was swollen shut and there was a deep wound on his forehead that bled profusely.

"Wouldn't you… like ta' know?"

"Yes, I would." Logvarine approached the man and grabbed him by the jaw with his bare hand. "Who are you?"

"… My name is Pauntius… happy!" he was obviously having troubles breathing.

"Not, good, enough!" Logvarine let the man's jaw down and walked to the other side of the room, as if to think. He turned and walked back to his captive. Logvarine leaned forward on the man and placed his hands on the Imperial's arms.

"What… do you want!?" Pauntius screamed.

"I want you to tell me who sent you, or you will suffer." The broken man's head was rocking slowly back and forth as he began to slip out of consciousness. Logvarine slapped him lightly and the man woke back up. "Stay with me!"

"I… was sent by a man in… Winterhold…" he caught his breath for a moment, "A… high elf, he never told me his name, but… he stays at the inn there… he wears black robes."

That was easier than Logvarine had thought it would be, "We will have to keep you here to assure our security. We will set up a cell for you and hopefully it will be to your liking." Logvarine pushed off of the chair and tried to hide the pain that pounded in his chest.

"You'll never… win against them…" said Pauntius as Logvarine opened the door to exit back into the halls of the ancient ruins.

"We can try." Logvarine closed the door behind himself.

* * *

Logvarine and Rytel decided to go with just the two of them; a few pushover high elves would be no match for them. They went down to the docks down from the mountain and took a small caravel along the coast of the ghost sea to Winterhold.

"You do realize why I got mad at you and Tylnar, right?" Logvarine asked.

"Of course, Sera. We were being rowdy, and disrupting what was supposed to be a serious meeting." Rytel looked out over the icy, dark water as their boat cut through the sea. Logvarine had his hands on the wheel.

"I'm glad that YOU at least understand. Tylnar is still just as bitter as ever."

"Heh." Rytel scoffed, "He's an Orc, their naturally bitter."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Logvarine looked off of the side of their ship far off into the horizon of the ghost sea; it was extremely dark out tonight.

"Let's just get this business over with and get back home."

Logvarine sighed and continued to steer around the many rocks that were marking the near-shore line. "We may have to move to another home, they know where we are now."

"That is true… have you thought of about maybe expanding into Black-Reach? We could clear out the Falmer and then BOOM! Instant living space." Rytel explained with his arms spread wide to express the motions of an explosion.

"I suppose… since we do have more people now we should be able to handle something of that size."

"All I'm saying is to think about it."

* * *

A day later they arrived at the shore beneath the college of Winterhold. Logvarine was wearing his arch mage's robes over his armor so he would not have to show authentication if he wanted to stop by for a visit. They took their time climbing the hill to the village of Winterhold and their boots left heavy imprints in the fresh snow. The guards gave the pair of dark elves odd looks of suspicion as they walked up to the inn and opened its wooden door. The two of them walked in out of the cold and closed the door behind them.

"You stay here. I'm going to go talk to the bartender." Logvarine told his friend. He put his hood down and ambled up to the counter where the nord tavern manager was standing.

"What do you want, elf?" he said with an inherent tone of displeasure in his rough voice.

"Have you seen any Thalmor around here lately? You know the high elves with the dark robes." He motioned to his belt that had a small coin purse attached to it. The bartender's eyes widened, but he did not speak. Instead the nord motioned to his right; toward an open door leading to an occupied room. Logvarine knew it would be too risky to express his gratitude verbally, so he put the coins in the barman's hands and walked off toward the door. He indicated for Rytel to follow so he put up his cloak and followed after him. The door was only slightly ajar and through the large enough crack in the entry they could see a sole high elf in dark clothing writing down notes, or maybe even a message. Logvarine pushed open the door as quietly as he could and stepped lightly inside; his enchanted armor helped magnificently with this. The elf did not notice a thing until Logvarine's hand was pressing over his mouth and Rytel had shut the door quickly behind them. He tried to scream for assistance but no one could hear him, and even if he could call for help, it was likely that no one would. Logvarine wrapped his arm around the elf's neck and lulled him forcefully to sleep.

"Do you have the scrolls?" Logvarine asked as he threw the elf over his shoulder. Rytel took out a scroll and threw it on the ground; a portal opened up.

"After you." He offered.

* * *

A portal opened two metres above the ground, but it was not anywhere near their intended destination. The three elves fell through the purple anomaly and landed hard against the snow covered rocks. The high elf was still asleep luckily.

Logvarine held his head as he sat up, "Where are we? Did you grab the proper scrolls!?"

"Calm down!" Rytel told him as they rose to their feet, "I'm sure we can find our way home from here." The two of them looked around at their snowy, rocky, mountainous surroundings.

"Where is… here?" a moment of silence took hold and eventually Logvarine put two and two together, "These are the Jerall Mountains… that means we're in Cyrodil."

"Why in oblivion were those Scrolls set to take us here!?" Rytel asked.

"No clue, but we have to get back; our friends could be in danger if there are Thalmor agents in our ranks."

"Ahhhhhh… my head…" The Thalmor moaned.

"It looks like we'll have to deal with our new friend first." Rytel laughed.


	25. Ice Ablaze

Logvarine grabbed the High elf's shoulder and dragged him over to another rock; leaning the man's back against it. The elf breathed heavy breaths and his eyes darted around his surroundings as they opened. He looked dazed to say the least. Logvarine crouched down beside him and tied his hands with magical bindings he had brought along. The bindings began to glow after they had been tied forcefully behind the elf's back. The elf looked up now, and saw the very man he was sent to dispose of.

"You… you blew up the embassy!" he said stunned. Logvarine looked at Rytel.

"What are we going to do?"

Rytel crossed his arms and hummed to himself for a moment, "Well, if we are in the Jerall mountains, then we should go north."

"I suppose that makes more sense than our scrolls crapping out on us." He laughed, and then stood up with his hand on the elf's shoulder again to pull him up, "You're coming with us. We will treat you fair if you show cooperation. If you do not cooperate, then may the gods have mercy on your soul."

"You're insane! Let me go!" he screamed as he struggled in vain against his captors. Logvarine pulled him back and slapped his victim across the face.

"Cooperate, Altmer!" he threatened.

"What is going on here?" came a voice from the south; a calm and friendly voice. Logvarine listened and realized that the voice was not unfamiliar, but he could not plant a face on it.

"Quentil!?" exclaimed Rytel; Logvarine couldn't help but turn around but he continued to hold his captive tight with both hands, in front of him.

"Quentil, what a surprise!" Logvarine said. A Breton with short brown hair and wearing a grey robe descended from his seat atop the carriage that he was using for transport. Another priest and three armed men sat in the back of the carriage and they all waved at Logvarine, whom waved back.

"It is good to see the both of you! We were just on our way to visit you." He stopped and looked at the high elf that was giving him razor sharp looks. "Why are you in Cyrodil, Friend?"

"We went to Winterhold to capture this fiend, but our teleportation scrolls for after we got him went faulty." He motioned with one arm out toward the mountains, "So here we are."

"We have enough room for you two and your friend in the back if you want?" Quentil offered; even if they were friends, as a priest of Talos he would never leave a man nor an elf in need on the side of such a cold road.

"That would be appreciated." Replied Logvarine, Quentil smiled and motioned at his carriage.

"Get in, we should take around a week to get there unless we don't stop." Quentil explained.

"We're in kind of a rush-!"

"Say no more, I will not rest until we are at the entrance to your humble abode."

Rytel snickered a bit as he sat down in the carriage, "You could call it humble, but that might be a lie."

* * *

Four days later…

Four days of no sleep was not a challenge for the priest. He would use revitalization spells and potions every so often and he could drive as if he was completely awake. With the use of these spells even his horses would not get tired. Now they were outside of the cave known to them as their home base. Quentil disembarked from his position in the front of the carriage and marvelled at the seemingly inconspicuous cave entrance.

"Nice bit of camouflage you have here." He said. Logvarine hopped off the back of the Carriage with his prisoner that now had a rope gagging him.

"I always thought so, but we may have to move soon – not enough space you see." Logvarine found it easy to get his captive to follow and to keep him under control; this Altmer was relatively weak.

"I suppose not, unless this is more than a mere cave." Quentil smiled. Logvarine shook his head. "It's a lot more than just a cave." He walked through the cave and into the door leading into the main chambers of the ancient ruins. Quentil gaped his jaw in awe at the expansive ruins filled with preserved knowledge of the dwarves.

"This is amazing…" he said softly.

"It really is, no point in being humble right now." Logvarine threw his captive elf to the floor and he hit his shoulder against the stone. The elf groaned and then got to his knees. "I'll save you the trip to the Interrogation room if you do the same for me. So, tell me: what is it the dominion is planning?" he undid the gag in the elf's mouth.

The high elf was just like any other of his kind; bitter to the end, "You're an elf, why do you lower yourself like this?" he said, "Oh, wait! You're a _Dark Elf_, the gods HATE you, HA!" for that he got a slap to the face by Rytel. Logvarine did not intervene, instead he let Rytel have his fun for once.

"He asked you a question!" people from all around the halls came to see the public interrogation. The Altmer snickered and shook his head.

"That does not mean that I have to answer him…" he said.

"Enough, take this N'wah to the dungeon!" Logvarine said before Rytel could release the punch he had wound up. A guard approached and took the elf by his magic cuffs. The prisoner and guard disappeared around the corner a moment later and everyone went back to whatever they had been doing before. Logvarine saw then, that Catath'een was sitting on his throne.

"There is the Bride!" exclaimed Quentil as he laid eyes upon another of his old friends. Cat ran down the steps and embraced the priest in a hug.

"How have you been, Quentil?"

"I've been just fine. But in the past month I've had to kill two Thalmor agents who had almost discovered my secret – May Talos and the eight rest their souls." Quentil gripped the amulet of Talos that hung from his neck. Logvarine reached into his chest plate and produced one of the same amulets. "Ah, so you still have the amulet that your father gave to you."

"Yes. Have you made contact with my father lately, by the way?" Logvarine inquired most hopefully.

"Yes; as a matter of fact he has been helping refugees from Hammerfell escape into Cyrodil recently." That was just like Logvarine's father; helping even when it isn't needed.

"That is good to hear." Logvarine concurred. Just then he and Rytel yawned like they had never yawned before; it lasted at least ten seconds. "What time is it?" Logvarine asked, trying not to laugh.

"Around ten o'clock… where will my friends and I stay?" Quentil asked.

"I'll show you to the guest's quarters. They're not comfy, but I hope you won't mind until we begin expansion and what-not." Logvarine said as he rubbed the back of his head, "then I have to get some rest myself."

* * *

The next morning after Logvarine and Catath'een had finished flirting like usual (it was practically unavoidable) they went to the mess hall to see how everyone was doing again, but things were a little tense. One of the members of the Hound's pack was getting into an argument with an imperial from the Vengeance (or as the Hound knew it, Logvarine's pack). The argument got quite heated and by the time Logvarine had stepped in, the werewolf had a bruised face on the account that the Hound gave strict orders not to fight anyone. He literally sat there as his fellow human wailed on his face again and again. So, later that morning; Logvarine gathered most of his troops in the main hall.

"If I may have your attention!" called Logvarine as he stood up from his seat and Hound stood beside him, "I need to talk to you about a little problem going on here currently."

Everyone around the room held their breaths and hoped that they would not be punished because of what one person did, "I will use an example to prove how childish and idiotic the lot of you are!" almost everyone in the crowd put down their heads; which just proved that only a few handfuls of people here were truly dependable and headstrong, "A priest of TALOS is getting along with the new were-beasts better than most of you are – no offense, Quentil, but that is just sad." Logvarine stepped back to allow the Hound some time to speak.

"You have many were-beasts in your pack already; you accept them without question because your leader says so!" he pointed to Logvarine, "But when I bring my family here to HELP you, we get abused. Now, I know that it is sometimes the fault of my own men, but the way you treated Hougho back in the Mess hall was absolutely shameful!"

Daneg interrupted from the side lines, "For god's sake the man was nah' fighting back! How could you just keep attacking 'em like that!? There is no honor there!" he seemed absolutely fuming right then.

"We are part of your pack now! We simply ask for respect!" the Hound stepped back and rubbed his sweaty forehead. Logvarine stepped back up.

"The second reason that we are here right now is because we need to expand our living space." The murmurs from the crowd were uneasy, as if they already knew what he was about to suggest, "We need to take less than a quarter of our forces here and expand into Blackreach! The Falmer down in these depths are too far gone to even have a chance of becoming as they once were; killing them is a mercy!" he unsheathed his flaming blade and held it high, "They will show you no mercy either! So who is with me!?"

The whole room exploded into cheers of agreement, because even if they did not like the idea, this was still their leader; the same leader that had always been prepared for anything and would lay down his own life for that of his men.

* * *

"I will need new armor if I am to join you." Said the Hound, "Let me go into Solitude and see if I can find anything for cheap." He turned to leave the caves and get a horse, but Logvarine grabbed his shoulder.

"In these catacombs we have a secret room wherein we keep all of the artifacts and special pieces we come across – I think you'll want to come with me." Logvarine walked down to the end of the hall and cast a spell on the wall; it was gone. "Follow." They walked into the dark room and torches lit up as they walked. Enchanted weapons of all kinds and armor of all types lined the walls. A few daedric artifacts were even present. The dim stone walls were decorated with banners of all kinds, gathered from previous battles. Logvarine motioned towards the end of the room where a piece of fur chest armor was on display in an impressive looking case. Logvarine approached the imposingly decorated fur armor and opened the case to remove it.

"What are you doing? And what is that?" asked the Hound. Logvarine turned around to face him again and showed him the front of the cuirass. It looked like the face of a wolf and startlingly at that.

"This… is the Savior's Hide; the relic you have sought for so many years." He thrust the object against the Nord's chest, "And I want you to have it." The Hound's jaw hung open like a broken door; unmoving he spoke.

"I… but… how… how did you get this?"

"When Gatel first became a Lycanthrope, he was tasked by Hircine to run an errand of sorts." Logvarine explained, "The details are few as he does not talk about it, but he managed to gain the favor of Hircine and when he returned with the armor in hand… he gave it to me for teaching him about Hircine in the first place." He motioned with his hand at the hide, "However, if not for you I would never be who I am now."

The Hound shivered as he pulled the hide over his unarmoured chest, covering his tattoo but displaying a proud wolf on his breast instead. He exhaled as he felt the power of his choice God flowing through his body in waves of empowerment. "I don't… I don't know what to say?"

"Don't say anything, just be the warrior I need." Requested Logvarine in a stout manner. The Hound nodded and then looked around at the shadow-bound room. The torches flickered in the moving air as the two of them moved around in the still-aired room.

"What else is in this mystical place?" whispered the Hound. Logvarine laughed.

"Mystical? Sure, I'm here to find a weapon I had found on Solstheim; it is a sword made of enchanted ice that is unbreakable, even to the hardest of metals – and enchanted further by me to freeze my foe's blood in their veins." He pronounced dramatically.

"Did you name it?" Hound asked.

"The Breath Of Ysmir is its name…" he answered as he opened another display case off to the side and revealed an azure glowing blade of solid blue ice, only the hilt was made of metal and the icy blade was colder than the grave, it was made of enchanted ice called Stalhrim. He raised it with two hands – daintily – and steam rose off of it and cascaded elegantly to the ground. With what looked like one swift motion, Logvarine picked up the Scabbard, sheathed the blade, and positioned it on his waist opposite his burning blade "Parthurnaax".

"By the Gods and Hircine's grace…" mumbled The Hound almost silently. Logvarine turned and smirked at his old leader.

"Do you know how to use a spear?" he asked, almost sarcastically.

The Hound put his hands on his hips and scoffed, "Do I know how to use a spear; he asks!? Of course I know how to use a spear!"

"Then I have another treat for you…"

* * *

"This will be glorious." Said the Hound as he surveyed the room from beside the throne. Beside him were Samuel and Lhotan. On the opposite side of Logvarine were Em-shei, Rytel, and Tylnar. Hound stood with an elegant looking spear in his right hand and a wide grin upon his face. Another gift given to man by Hircine was a spear rightfully named "The Spear of Bitter Mercy" and now Hound was in possession of it. He marvelled at the lustrous shimmer of the unknown metal on the blade and arm of the weapon.

"I found it on another expedition to Solstheim." Whispered Logvarine over to his werewolf friend. "A story for a calmer time."

The whole room was abuzz with men and women ready to go on a slaughter spree – they did not understand. Logvarine did not want to have to kill the Falmer that inhabited the place known as Blackreach, he didn't like killing anything really (Except on the honor of Hircine, of course, or for what he believed in). They sharpened their blades and practised swinging their maces, all of them hoping to be chosen for the expedition into the farthest reaches of the dwarven catacombs. Each person at Logvarine's side picked five people each, and Logvarine picked none – thirty strong and reliable people would be more than enough for their dealings with the snow elves. They knew what had to be done to ensure the success of those loyal to the TRUE Empire – it meant they would be committing an act of near genocide in order to ensure they thrive in the coming years. Logvarine would not shed a tear for the eyeless monstrosities that awaited them below and mercy would not be shown to them.

The walk to the boarded up entrance to Blackreach was a silent and awkward one, with only subtle whispers heard back and forth coming from the soldiers. When they arrived at the entrance, Logvarine slowly unsheathed his Stalhrim blade and then quickly slashed down – destroying all of the wooden boards and leaving their ends frosted by the ice enchantment of his sword. He sheathed his weapon and turned to his allies.

"Our lives are in the hands of each other and in the hands of the gods we serve; now would be the time to pray to them all." After this they would be focusing everything on the destabilization of the current Imperial regime, there had been enough stalling the destruction of the Dominion.


	26. The Depths of Darkness

The soft clang of weapons and armor against themselves was prevalent as they stepped into the over-sized elevator, considering still that it was made for use by Dwemer. Everyone who got onto the mechanical lift could hear each other's harsh breathing as the air got thinner, and thinner, and the elevator went down, and down. Stone inscriptions left by the Dwemer were scrawled decoratively into the stone walls that passed them as the elevator continued its descent into the depths of Blackreach, where they would make their new home. Logvarine had to reason with himself that these "Snow-elves" were no longer people, so as to not feel the guilt of their genocide. If anything it was a merciful release from their tortured existence.

"Anyone here that has a bow will stick behind the group as the others make the push forward; I will lead the charge, but we need some mages to stick back for healing – any volunteers?" Logvarine asked.

Three hands instantly shot up that he could see.

"Good, then stay with the archers and assist only when necessary. This is going to get intense." Logvarine concurred.

The sounds of turning and whirring gears clicked on and on until suddenly the elevator lurched to a stop; they had arrived in the deepest known place in all of Tamriel. Closer to oblivion than they wished to be. The gate opened up and the scene in front of them was not as dark as they had originally thought. Many bioluminescent plants and fungi lit up the gloomy black caverns and light-producing rocks dotted the roof of the extremely tall cave. Logvarine could see for at least half a mile in one direction; it was most definitely the largest cave he had ever seen.

Down the slope that they stepped out onto were four Falmer, with their eyeless faces just as hideous as Logvarine had remembered them. They wore almost nothing, except for one that was in a full set of chitinous armor that even covered his "Eyes". Their weapons even looked twisted and wrong, just like them.

It seemed as if the Falmer had not yet noticed the intruders. Logvarine raised one open hand and everyone stopped walking. He took one last adrenaline fueled breath and then closed his hand in a fist.

"CHARGE!" shouted Tylnar. The group of men and women roared in agreement and burst forward with their weapons unsheathed and their mouths open to release their war cries. Logvarine sprinted toward the enemies that turned their heads and unsheathed their own weapons. One of the Falmer let out a shrieking, ear-rattling war cry and ran back at them. Logvarine stabbed one of the blind monstrosities by the neck and plunged the breath of Ysmir into the elf's stomach and it froze the area around the wound with frost magic. It began to choke on its own crimson life waters as it fell to the cavern floor, gurgling. Logvarine looked up to see that the Falmer from the nearby ruins had been alerted and had joined the fray; they were at least forty units strong. With no time to waste, Rytel jumped into the skirmish with two daggers in his hands and his bow on his back, obviously disobeying Logvarine's orders.

There was no time to get mad at anyone though. Logvarine ran through the crowds as they fought and clashed his blades with another Falmer whom proceeded to screech in his face, spraying saliva all over his cowl and hood. Logvarine grabbed the creature's arm and sent a nasty shock rocketing up his arm and into his brain; killing him. He pushed the elf aside and then lunged forward to stab another in the shoulder. The mutant roared out and then struck at Logvarine's arm with his claws, but to no avail. Logvarine plunged his icy sword deeper into the monster's shoulder and then slashed its neck with his clawed gauntlets. Blood sprayed all over both of them and the elf slid off of Logvarine's blade as he fell to the ground grasping his neck.

Without warning an arrow shot down from above him and placed its head in Logvarine's shoulder. He recoiled, but simply pulled the arrow out with a trace amount of his blood on its tip; it had barely pierced his armor. He looked up to see three Falmer notching oddly shaped arrows in their makeshift bows, on the Dwemer tower above. Logvarine shouted his own war cry as he sent a fireball hurdling towards the three snow elves. They noticed the large fiery sphere but were not quick enough to get away as they were nearly completely incinerated in the blast.

To his left, Logvarine could hear the howls of the werewolves that had turned. Samuel approached Logvarine in his werewolf form and an arm in his mouth. He grabbed it out and threw it to the ground. _"We're pushing them back, Logvarine!"_ he growled through his white-gray muzzle.

"Good. Charge the wall!"

"_Charge the wall!"_ Samuel echoed for all to hear and they all cheered back. Logvarine saw Rytel out the corner of his vision and ran over to help. He was beset upon by two Falmer and quickly dispatched them before Logvarine could step in.

"Rytel, follow me!" Logvarine called. Rytel looked up at his friend and nodded.

"I'm with you, Sera!"

Logvarine drew Rytel away from the main battle and leapt up to a climbable rock face, beside the walls that guarded the Falmer's stolen fortress. Logvarine went to call to Rytel but then noticed that he had climbed on ahead of him. He just shook his head and continued climbing. He vaulted up with one hand and landed on the wall with Rytel already decapitating one of the elves.

"What's your plan?" he asked as he approached Logvarine. Logvarine pulled his mask down to reveal his face and then exhaled.

"We are stealth experts, so we need to help in the best way we can."

"Flank tactics…"

A raspy, reptilian voice began to speak behind Logvarine, "Oh, and I'm not an expert?" asked Em-shei. Logvarine whipped around but then saw his friend.

"Fine, follow us, but don't muck it up." He made that point very clear. The trio proceeded carefully down the wall and used the clashing ruckus of combat to cover up their noised steps, even if Logvarine did have enchanted armor it was better safe than sorry. He approached a snow elf from behind and slit its throat with one fluid motion.

Rytel looked down over the wall into the fortress, the doors hadn't been opened yet, but their men were working on busting it down. The clang of people pushing back and forth on the stone door was clearly hearable. "When they break through, jump down onto the nearest Falmer, okay." Logvarine told both of his comrades.

Both Em-shei and Rytel nodded in agreement and then got into position as they could hear the door opening more and more. There was at least fifty Falmer in this fortress, and Logvarine had only lost two men from what he could tell. The battle was evenly matched considering that even with their larger numbers, the Falmer had no training.

With one final push the door was thrown open and the men and women flooded forward. "NOW!" Logvarine shouted as he jumped forward and plotted his jump's course. He landed directly on one of the Falmer and plunged his weapon into the top of the elf's shoulder. He recovered from the staggering jump and stabbed the elf in the face, splitting its head open. Rytel and Em-shei also landed on their own targets and joined the fight. Logvarine unsheathed Parthurnaax and passed his other sword off into his left hand. With both of his blades at the ready, he charged forward with Rytel and Em-shei beside him.

A chaurus, a horrible earwig-esque black monstrous thing with giant mandibles, jumped forward and caught Logvarine's leg in its maw. He staggered back but took no time plunging his magical blades into the head of the monster. How the Falmer managed to tame these things was anyone's guess. He ripped the closed mandibles from his leg and charged on at the Falmer before him, equipped in full chaurus chitin armor. The elf screeched at his opponent as he made a step forward and held out his sword. Logvarine struck at the Falmer's sword and sent it reeling sideways but when he tried to take a stab at the mutant elf it blocked his strike with its chitinous shield. Logvarine kicked up the shield with his knee and finally struck the armored Falmer in the chest. The flaming blade sliced through the black armor like jelly and charred the monster's skin.

It continued yelling at Logvarine in some dead language that no one could understand.

"Just DIE!" Logvarine screamed as he rushed his other blade through the chest of the Falmer. Logvarine lurched forward to make the blades go deeper and the creature tried to take a breath but was met with the ashes that used to be his lungs. Logvarine slid his swords from the beast's chest and let him fall back onto the ground. A pool of dark scarlet painted the ground, a canvas of carnage. He kneeled down in exhaustion and took his breaths with a grain of salt; any could be his last.

A screech to the right of a now tired Logvarine heralded his imminent death. He turned but did not have enough time to dodge as the Falmer ran toward him with a spear in his hands. Before it could make contact however, the Falmer was met with another spear to the side of the gut, and it tore through him like a wolf would tear apart his prey. Logvarine recognized the spear and accepted the hand that was soon extended to him. He got to his feet with the Hound's aid and looked down at his attacker, the Falmer's intestines were spilling out and its chest slowly stopped moving.

"Is that all there is?" Logvarine asked. The Hound had blood all over his lower face, a sign that he had feasted amid the battle.

"I wish there were more… but there don't seem to be any more." He breathed hard like a saber-cat after a successful hunt.

"Good… well we might as well… clean up…" he looked down at the Falmer with his insides out and cringed. He obviously wasn't very hungry.

"Are you going to eat that?" asked the Hound, jokingly.

* * *

By the end of the day, everyone was nearly moved in and the place already looked like home. Banners bearing the symbol of the white-gold tower were hung from the walls of the fortress and torch stances were set up around the court yard. Logvarine had sent out a few scouting parties not long after the battle to drive out the rest of whatever might be living down there. Everything looked so small when he stood upon the walls of the underground city and peered off into the distance. The cavern walls were so dark that they seemed more like gateways to another world than shadowed walls.

"We're still cleaning up the blood; what a mess." Said Catath'een from behind him.

"Do you like it?" asked Logvarine without turning around.

"I wish we did not have to see so many die, but yes, it is wonderful." She embraced him from behind and wrapped her warm arms around him.

"Will you help me move the artifacts down here?" he asked suddenly. She released him and stepped back.

"Uh… sure." She said as she grabbed his hand and they walked off toward the elevator.

The only thing that worried him, was thinking about how strong the full force of the Aldmeri dominion would be. Could they hope to actually defeat them in fair combat, or would they have to stick to cowardly hit and run tactics? Guerilla warfare was tiring and not effective enough to drive off the Thalmor menace. The planning would have to wait until after the wedding of course.


	27. Change Like Mountain Winds

The wedding was beautiful.

Quentil and his priest of Mara held the ceremony in the middle of a thick canopied evergreen forest with crystalized snow hanging off of the branches of each and every needled tree. The wedding ceremony was held late at night and the blessed light of both Masser and Secondus cut through the cover of the trees to shine on both Logvarine and Cat as they exchanged their vows to one another. All of their close friends were there, but family was too far away to make such a trip just for their sakes. Both Cat's mother and Logvarine's father were off helping refugees from all over Tamriel that were being displaced by the constant infighting that threatened the very foundation of the Empire; the Empire that they were born into; the Empire that their ancestors had bled for; the Empire that THEY had bled for…

It was the same Empire that they would – ultimately – destroy.

It was an Empire that could not last.

Logvarine spent his days training and planning for the day when they would finally show their hand and take the fight abroad; maybe even as far as the Summerset isles. His apprentice had become a skilled mage under his tutelage, and was capable of more than Logvarine had ever hoped to coax out of him. Rauland the high elf had now become a respected member of the Vengeance, and soon enough he would be sent out on his own missions. Baelen, the Altmer with a dwarven-made arm, was also accepted by the other members of their little resistance regardless of his generally foul mood.

Logvarine just hoped they could handle fighting they're former comrades so readily.

Catath'een had a noticeable bump on her abdomen now and it was hard to hide it from those whom needn't know of their pregnancy. She stayed most of her time residing deep within their new home they had made in the ruins of Blackreach. After disposing of the bodies of the Falmer that formerly made residence there they turned the former Dwemer stronghold into a slice of home. The old stone was renewed in quality using magic from Logvarine's most experienced wizards, and the old stronghold was now looking as good as new. In the case of seismic activity (Man-made or otherwise) pillars were erected all around the caves of Blackreach. Every precaution was taken to ensure the safety of their allies.

* * *

"Establish another safe house just west of the old brotherhood sanctuary. There should be a sizable bandit camp there for us to make use of." Logvarine hovered over a map of Skyrim with pins placed into it at many points of all different colors, and he barked his orders in a commanding voice to his messengers.

"I will order a troop of our men be sent there at once!" one of the messengers saluted before walking away.

"Good. You!" he pointed to the other courier, "I have a message that must be delivered to Warnarn Hlaalu – and only him; understood?" he pulled a scrolled piece of parchment wrapped in a golden ribbon out from underneath his cloak, seemingly out of nowhere.

"You can count on me sir!"

"Do not call me sir. We are not in the military." Logvarine rectified as he passed the man his scroll. The courier deposited it in his pack and then saluted before running off in the same direction that his friend had run off in.

Logvarine rapped his talon tipped gauntlets on the stone table in front of him as he continued to stare at the map of the Northern Province. So much of Skyrim was secretly under his control now, and it was almost enough to drive him mad when he ran over the possibilities in his head for how this war could play out. Almost every time he spent his hours planning out possible scenarios his clan would end up losing to the Aldmeri Dominion. Divine intervention was the only possible solution.

"How many Daedra will I have to climb into bed with to win this Ash-damned war?" he said to himself. An image came into his head, an image that made him shudder lightly.

"There is one Lord that I have not yet met with… and I had hoped not to."

* * *

"Well… if he is the lord of change then he's exactly what we need." Gatel admitted as he, Logvarine and Rytel began ascending the steep mountains east of Solitude. Logvarine was using his staff to prop himself up the steep incline of the rocky terrain.

"Yes, but he is also the lord of destruction so we have to be wary of his power." Logvarine huffed and puffed as they continued up the mountain side. They were more than halfway up the mountain and Logvarine was already sleep deprived so he felt as if he could collapse at any moment. As they were going to be consorting with Daedra Rytel thought it was best that three dark elves went rather than any of the other races.

"Are we even sure that Dagon won't simply smite us upon reaching his shrine?" said Rytel pessimistically.

"He has no reason to do so. We'll be fine." Logvarine answered as he shivered in his armor. Dunmer were accustomed to extreme heat, and this cold was anything but.

Almost a day's worth of climbing and a hearth's worth of warming magic was what were expended by the time that they approached the summit. A small grove was cut into the mountain side and as they went to inspect it further they immediately realized that they were exactly where they needed to be. A large statue of a horned man with four arms was carved into the face of the mountain. The statue was seated in an equally large throne of mountain stone. In front of the statue was a table of some sort, presumably for rituals. The shrine to Mehrunes Dagon seemed to have been untouched for some time.

"_The grandchild of my mortal enemy approaches… and he seeks something from me…"_ came a loud and thunderous voice as the three dunmer stepped toward the shrine.

"Then we have no need for introduction…" Logvarine pointed out.

"_No… there is no time for such trivial things…"_ the voice of the Daedric prince let out a long sigh, _"I grow tired of mortals easily so make haste! Why are you here!?"_ Dagon commanded.

"I have come to ask if you would want to join me in bringing about change on an unheard of scale." Logvarine tempted. The three adventurers could hear soft growling and then the voice returned.

"_It is the fault of your forefather that I was again confined to this realm of mine. Why do you assume that I would join you?"_

"Because the Aldmeri Dominion does not recognize you as a being to be worshipped or even taken note of. Wouldn't you revel in the chance to destroy them?" Logvarine spat at him with his silver tongue. The mountain went silent aside from the wind that blew through the rocks.

"_I would not argue against that, but how do you come to the conclusion that I would join you without some type of sacrifice?"_

"Because working with us will be its own reward; and you know that."

Dagon again went silent and the air around the three dunmer began to shift with power. The loud voice returned once again.

"_Very well… I demand one thing!"_ a small orb surrounded in whole by a magical aura appeared through a portal and landed upon the sacrificial table. _"Take this Sigil Stone to your place of residence and have a shrine of my physical form erected around it. I will commune with you only once you have finished this!"_ his voice boomed through the air. Logvarine grabbed the glowing blue orb and ran his fingers over it.

"So much power…"

"_That is but a taste of my essence, a splinter from my tree of power."_

"We will take our leave now. Until we meet again." Logvarine said as he ushered his friends out of the grotto.

"_Halt! Stay your feet, Dragonborn. I have a gift for you."_ Said the prince. A surge of red hot energy enveloped Logvarine, and he felt as if something had been awakened inside of him. A power that he was destined to know.

Two portals of blue and violet ripped the air asunder ahead of him and two figures stepped forward in brimstone colored armor. The horned figures with red tattoos across their gray faces were obviously Dremora, the servants of Mehrunes Dagon himself.

"_These two heretics served your grandfather long ago; Xakkev and Rezzkal…"_ he explained.

"No… that can't be?"

"_It can, and it is." _Answered the Dremora on his right, _"I am Xakkev, and I swear myself into your service."_ He held his hand to his heart.

"_I am Rezzkal, and I too swear to serve you."_ The other Dremora said as he held his hand to his heart as well.

"_Summon them when you feel the need…"_ said Dagon before the Dremora disappeared once again. _"Now make haste back to your over glorified hole in the ground as I prepare."_ And then the voice was gone.

* * *

Logvarine made it clear to his masons and sculptors that the statue of Mehrunes Dagon was to be completed with the utmost haste in mind. He never expected that it would be completed within the day. A sculpture three feet taller than Logvarine was placed in its own room deep within the sanctums of their new underground fort. It was of Mehrunes Dagon admiring a single skull as he rested one foot upon a mound of many skulls, his lower arms were crossed and his free hand rested upon his axe as its head pressed against the ground.

"It is perfect…" he said to the Sculptors, which there were five of, "Leave."

Before the sculptors truly had the time to admire their work they were shooed out by their master. He admired their efforts for a time after they had left, but then realized he forgot to tell them to make a receptacle for the Sigil Stone. As he pulled the orb from his cloak he began to eye the hand in which there was a skull placed. It was loosely attached and all Logvarine had to do was shift it a few times before it was freed from the statues stony grasp. He positioned the Sigil stone inside of the Prince's hand and it fit perfectly. Not wanting the skull to go to waste, Logvarine put it beside the pile of other skulls.

A ghostly shifting began in the space in front of him so he stepped back carefully from the statue. A ghostly mirage of the statue appeared from the stone and slumped to his knees before rising back to his feet. He grasped a translucent, spectral axe in two of his four hands and crossed the other two arms over one another.

"_You are faster than I had anticipated; well done!"_ The prince commended as he shifted around uncomfortably. _"This statue is accurate enough I suppose."_ He sighed.

"Now, how do you plan to help me?" Logvarine said, interrupting the Daedric lord's thoughts. Dagon seemed annoyed at his subject's lack of respect, but it had been a long time since he held such a prevailing champion in his domain of power.

"_I will supply you with daedric metals and other resources that you can make use of. If need be I will allow your mages to conjure Dremora and other creatures of mine to aid you."_ For the prince of destruction, he could be quite generous.

"That is all that I would dare ask for, Lord Dagon." Said Logvarine as he swept one arm below his chest and bent over in a bow. The prince disappeared without another word, as if irritated by his newest champion. Logvarine could tell that this would be a profitable relationship.

* * *

The deeper sanctums of their fortress were dressed up with banners and torches that gave the rooms and stone halls an air of home.

"You have made a pact with Merrunz!? What by the gods could have driven you to do such a thing!?" Cat expressed her stressful view of his decision. Logvarine looked down at her rounded belly and sighed.

"None of the Daedric Princes are WHOLLY evil, we can trust him."

"You say that, but this one does not believe such falsehoods." Cat rolled her hand gently over her abdomen; she then made a faint purring noise.

"He cannot send his minions into Mundus – in force – unless he has someone to summon them; that someone can be us, the Vengeance." Logvarine placed his hand upon his chest plate as he said 'us'.

"Can we be sure that his minions will not betray us?"

"They would never go against their master, and he would only gain from our partnership." Logvarine tried to explain. Catath'een took another step forward and felt the dark elf's chest armor.

"How does Logvarine see that?" she asked in her Khajiit perspective-based speech.

"I'd bet my life that ever since the Oblivion crisis Mehrunes Dagon has been aching to make even the smallest indent in the lives of mortals, to show his power." Logvarine clenched his right hand in a fist, "This is his chance to do so." Catath'een lowered his hand as she let out a submissive sigh.

"I cannot argue with such a point." She bopped his nose with her finger, lightly, "But if the Prince reappears in this realm, you owe your ancestors a thorough cleanup job."

Logvarine laughed with gusto.

"I'm sure I'd make my grandfather proud in such a bout."

* * *

A Month or so ago…

"AZURA CURSE IT ALL!" screamed a pained Logelaine as he received more stitches from his golden skinned lover. Saline took care with every piece of glass torn from his body and every needle piercing his outer flesh as she sutured his form back together.

"What in the name of Xarxes did happen to you?" she asked him as blood generously stained her arms. She looked down and saw how much blood he had lost. An amount that would not be considered healthy even for a vampire lord. "Place your hand to your chest and begin healing yourself with your magic; it will help me."

Logelaine placed his hand on his own chest as Saline had told him to do, and he began to radiate yellow glowing energy onto his breast, assisting in the healing process. After Saline had finished a row of stitches she placed her hand on the now closed wound and began to use her own healing magic.

"Does it still hurt?"

"I'll give you a hint: it feels like I was forcefully fornicated by Malacath."

Saline almost dropped her needle and thread as she began to laugh at his analogy that shed some light on his current status. She recovered from her hysterics and continued to close up Logelaine's wounds with her delicate hands.

Kagnor came around the corner into the master bedroom of Vulkihar castle and took a seat beside the stool that Logelaine was seated upon.

"How are you doing, Grey-hide?" He joked as he leaned in and inspected the Vampire's wounds. Traveling at such a velocity through a glass window was enough to tear many a rip in the light grey skin of Logelaine.

"I think I'll live… thank you for following me; I'd be dead or captured if not for your timely rescue." He said as he managed to stretch a smile on his face. His fangs showed through.

"Anything for my favorite elf, aye?" he looked over and saw Saline glaring at him, her pointed ears flared upwards. "You're okay too, Sal."

End of Act II


	28. Blood Price Paid In Advance

ACT 3

"My goodness," Warnarn breathed as he read the message from his son. He stroked his rough black, but graying beard and moustache with his now ungloved hands, "you have been busy, Log',"

Moon-cat turned suddenly from over at her own strategy table.

"Now if only he could quit it with the skooma." She said, pseudo-seriously.

"As long as he doesn't end up getting the shakes or something like that, then he can do all of the skooma from here to Morrowind." Warnarn, or Commander Hlaalu, said. Moon-cat laughed and began to toy with her whiskers.

"Our kits make a cute couple, don't you think?" she said.

"Aye, but I've received a lot of hassle from my subordinates about it."

Moon-cat's ears shot up.

"Why is that?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"They say things like, "It's unnatural" or "Their kids will be abominations" and other such annoyances." He looked over and noticed that the courier was still at the entrance to the tent. He wrote up a quick message and then handed it off to the messenger, who trotted back away on his horse.

"I think that the human races simply do not understand how emotions truly work." Cat's mother suggested. Warnarn laughed and walked back over to the table across from her.

"A lot of elves are the same way unfortunately."

"Well I hope you set them straight." She said with a devious smile, mostly joking. Warnarn however made a serious face.

"One of them threatened me because of my son's choice of mate…" he paused, "He was drunk and he tried to hit me with his sword, heh, he could barely swing it. He was an imperial lad…" he cut off again and wiped his face of sweat. "I could have just stopped him but… I swung at his neck and grabbed him by his hair as his body slumped down…"

The tent was dead silent just between the two of them.

"I raised the head of that boy and asked if anyone else wanted to say anything. I was just… so… angry!" he clenched his fists. "I killed that boy because of his drunken opinion… that's the type of person I've become!?"

Moon-cat seemed sympathetic, but listened to his sob story nonetheless.

"But not a single one of them said anything against it. Not because they were scared. Not because of respect. But because if they were me…" he gulped, "They would have done none better."

"Anyone would take that chance to strike against him, maybe not kill him, but no one would be able to hold back that anger." The Khajiit explained.

"Someone…" Warnarn breathed heavily and again wiped his face as he pulled up a stool and sat down, "Someone always has to be the lightning rod, don't they?"

"Does the letter say anything else?" The Khajiit asked. Warnarn grabbed the message off of the table again and scrolled his eyes to the end, and then opened them wider than ever. "What is it?" she asked.

"Catath'een is… pregnant…"

* * *

"Don't let your form get sloppy!" Logvarine called out with his hands behind his back as he watched from across the training room at Rauland. He flung fire and electricity across the chamber and hit the target without even thinking about it, lacking of effort. The target was a training dummy dressed in Thalmor apparel. Logvarine was in his full armor and cape with the hood to match and it drifted from side to side as the spells made impact. Rauland retracted his hands and did not even sweat from the heat coming off of the now crisp dummy.

"What was that about form?" he smiled. Logvarine smiled back from underneath his cowl.

"Nothing." He said as he walked farther off to the side. Rytel entered the room through the large brass colored dwarven doors and walked over beside Logvarine. They stood silent for a minute or two, watching Rauland cast spells of all different kinds.

"Boethiah be praised, he is a talented one." Rytel finally said with his hands put leisurely through his belt. Logvarine nodded with crossed arms.

"He has a gift – that is for sure."

A Nordic man dressed in standard iron armor layered with coatings of fur entered the room and saluted Logvarine, who saluted back. Before he spoke, the man looked over to see Logvarine's apprentice casting an ice spike spell, and it hit the next target right in the head.

"My friend," he started, "The Thalmor prisoner has decided to talk." Logvarine raised his brow.

"The one that I captured?"

"No, the one that was… abused, more than a month ago." He answered. Logvarine was pleasantly surprised.

"Oh! Well this is unexpected. He hadn't said a word to anyone since I saved his life." Logvarine gathered his cloak behind him and motioned for the others to follow, including Rauland.

They arrived in the new cell block deep within their Blackreach fortress, and it was still just as dark and damp as the previous one, albeit with Dwemer made architecture. Prisoners looked up from their cell floors as their captor walked by their cell doors. They could hear the jingling of keys as the Dark elf walked up to one of the farthest cells and input his key, opening it. The elf inside of the cell slowly lifted his head and his blonde hair draped down over long golden ears all the way down to his shoulders. A rough beard was growing on his jawline. He was surprisingly fit and muscular for having been in confinement for so long.

"Come with me." Logvarine said commandingly as he held out his hand. The elf was not even reluctant to grab his arm as the dark elf lifted him to his worn and bare feet. The elf still did not speak, but Logvarine was hopeful that he would when he was out of earshot of his fellow captives. As they walked back through the rows of dwarven cells the other prisoners gave him glowers of condescension; muttering "Traitor" under their breaths as he passed. He ignored them as he held his head high and exited the room.

They passed through the halls into another room with dwarven carvings along the walls, and a large table with many chairs. The nord man and Rytel flanked each side of the door from inside of the room and Logvarine motioned for the High elf man to sit. Logvarine sat across from him with a quill and an inkwell in front of a piece of parchment. Rauland sat down beside his master.

Logvarine put down his hood and cowl, and then dunked the quill in the ink.

"Now," he said, licking his lips, "What is your birth name?"

The man seemed hesitant to move his tongue, but eventually opened his mouth to speak.

"Mithron," he had a very coarse sounding voice, very masculine, "My name is Mithron." Logvarine jotted that down on the paper. He put the quill back into the inkwell and left it there before crossing his fingers beneath his chin.

"Why have you decided to speak?" Logvarine asked. Mithron stared directly into his keeper's eyes.

"I made a vow." He answered, cryptically. Logvarine crumpled up the paper in front of him and tossed it to the side. Everyone seemed confused aside from the high elf that still had a completely straight face.

"What kind of vow?"

"After you likely saved my life," Mithron began, "I made a vow that if I survived six weeks in your care, with fair treatment, that I would give you my full cooperation – I then took a vow of silence until that time."

"You're quite fond of vows and oaths, aren't you?"

"Very." He answered.

"As am I… and I have vowed to demolish your dominion."

"Their dominion is no longer my own." He said, to everyone's surprise, "I said you would have my full cooperation, which means you have my body, as well as my knowledge." He finished by putting his large enchanted manacles up onto the table, still around his wrists.

"You need only free me." Mithron said.

Rytel and Rauland didn't move, but the Nord guard approached the table with an air of nervousness coating his face. He placed his hand on the table aggressively and pointed at the captive Mithron.

"We can't trust this swine! This blasted elf just wants to be free to kill us all!" Mithron continued to stare into Logvarine's soul, and he received Logvarine's stare back. The dark elf snapped his fingers and the cuffs fell to the table. Not even a moment later Mithron leapt from his seat and grabbed the nord by his neck, nearly crushing his windpipe. Rytel and Rauland drew their blades, but Logvarine calmly got to his feet and walked over to the other side of the table where the attack was taking place.

"Why have you attacked this man?" he asked, just as calmly. The nord was gasping for air and clawing at the elf's hands.

"This one… is a traitor." He said. Rytel and Rauland seemed stunned, but Logvarine remained indifferent.

"How do you know?" Logvarine asked as he stared menacingly at the nord with his bloody red dunmer eyes.

"I heard him consorting with the other prisoners, and he even had the nerve to plan with me." Mithron continued, "He was going to assassinate you and thought that it would be best to have some help; me. Unfortunately, he caught on to my own plan too soon and now this has happened." The nord gasped for oxygen.

"_Trai…tor…" _he said as the words barely escaped his mouth.

Logvarine looked intently at the High elf still in his rags and the nord man in his large grasper. He sensed not a shred of deceit in Mithron's capable sounding voice. Logvarine held out his hand as it began to glow green, and then a spell shot out of his hand striking the nord and freezing him in position, locking down all of his nerves.

"Release him." He instructed. Mithron released the nord, who then fell over like an unbalanced statue and stayed in the same position even as he hit the ground with a thud. Paralysis.

"Rytel, take him to Mithron's old cell, for Irony's sake."

* * *

Mithron spent the rest of the night with Logvarine, going over lists of names accompanied by descriptions. Mithron pointed out all of those he knew to be traitors to their cause. Logvarine had spent much of his Magika on every mind-intruding alteration and illusion spell he could think of, but he sensed no foul intent in this High elf's heart.

He was telling the truth.

Within a few hours Mithron had a list of five people that he knew to be traitors and Logvarine sat down beside his new greatest asset to go over his findings.

"These three were plotting your assassination; they knew better than to take you on alone." He fingered out crude drawings of an imperial man, a wood elf man, and a high elf woman.

"What of these two?" Logvarine pointed at the others.

"This one," he pointed to the picture of another imperial man, "Was plotting the destruction of your fortress, but he didn't get far into planning." He moved his finger over a picture of a dark elf man with long black hair. "This man… um… well…"

"What? What was he planning?" Logvarine asked calmly. Mithron swallowed and turned to face the dunmer beside him.

"He was plotting the extermination of your wife…"

Logvarine stood completely still and silent. He knew it would come eventually, but he never knew how hard it would be to control his anger. He knew this man too, one who seemed to be a loyal member of their resistance. He could feel his teeth grinding and his brow furrowing. Mithron could see his anger blatantly painted on his furious looking face.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Logvarine continued to stare at the picture.

"Are you sure Veloth is… is the one you saw?"

"Without a doubt. He would talk about all of the horrible things he planned to do to you and your wife. Those words are still burned in my brain." Mithron answered. Logvarine could feel his throat tightening as a burning sensation began to overtake his entire being. He didn't want to be known as the leader who took retribution through violence, but neither could he think of a way to quench his anger's thirst. A thirst for blood. He grabbed a quill and a piece of paper, hastily scribbling down a message and signing it. He passed it to Mithron.

"This should give you free reign to wander the halls, but I need you to get another message," he grabbed another piece of parchment and began writing again, "to Rytel." He finished and handed the second message to him as well. Mithron unraveled the scrolled parchment to revel an eye widening truth.

"Are you sure that you-!?"

"Yes!"

"…Alright. It will be done." Mithron got down on one knee, kneeling before the armor clad elf.

"What are you doing?"

"I am thanking you. I can never repay your kindness from that day, but I hope this is a start." Mithron said. Logvarine sighed and then grabbed the man's shoulder, hoisting him to his feet.

"Welcome to the vengeance, brother." He clasped the man's arm and shoulder in a familiar embrace and then sent him on his way. "We'll get you some armor tomorrow!" he called after him.

* * *

"I'm not sure, Log'. This isn't you…" Rytel commented as they approached the one room that no one had even touched until just recently: the ancient Dwemer torture chamber. Logvarine's heart was beating as hard as the first time that he had taken on the beast form.

"I need this Rytel, just one act of pure rage, of pure anger and loathing. I need to expel these emotions somehow." Rytel walked in front of him and stopped him just before the bronze door.

"Are you sure? You have always been a kind person, but to do this…" he breathed unsurely, "does he deserve this?" Logvarine took Rytel in his arms and gave him a warm and brotherly hug that seemed to last forever.

"I have so much anger pent up, and he drew the last straw from my hand." He went into a hushed tone, "I won't let anyone even THINKING of hurting Cat get away with it." He clutched Rytel's back emotionally.

"When I go in there… no one is to follow me, and especially not Cat. I don't want you to see me like this either, Sera…"

"I understand… just… just don't let this change you, alright?"

"It won't." he released, "It will save me…"

* * *

The large imposing doors closed behind him with a slam, and he took that as his sign to get comfortable. He took off his cape, let down his hood and took off his sheathes from his belt. He placed them on a table that was opposite the torture apparatus designed by the dwarves. Upon the strange table like device, was the Dark elf Veloth in rags and with his arms and legs stretched across the copper colored torture table. Logvarine stared into the eyes of his former ally and walked slowly toward him, threateningly as he scraped his talon-like gauntlet across the stone table. He hated seeing others in pain, but he knew that he was going to enjoy this. He was going to enjoy it very much.

"Who fingered me out, eh?" Veloth jested with a smile of slightly crooked, yellow teeth. Logvarine wasn't smiling, yet.

"Mithron, one of the prisoners. He will be taking an active role in our movement once you're gone." Logvarine threatened. The trussed up elf laughed, but the sound was confined to the small room that they were enclosed in.

"You trusted his word!?"

"I am a powerful illusionist. I could sense his desires, his drive."

"You are also a fool!" Veloth shouted as Logvarine circled him like a school of slaughter fish after finding their next meal. "You can't defeat the Dominion! That's why I joined them!"

"I suppose that's also why you planned to brutally murder my beloved." Logvarine felt his hands clench at one another behind his back. Veloth spit and completely missed Logvarine, if he was aiming for him even.

"You are a discredit to your kind, and she to hers!" he struggled against the braces in vain like a corned fox caught in a trap. "Your children would be monstrosities that would make Sheogorath look like a fine whore! Almost as fine a whore as your fleecy throw pillow of a wife!"

Logvarine was right beside the captive's head when he said this, so he decided it may as well be time to begin his procedure. Logvarine took his clawed metal hands and raked them against his victim's face, cutting four deep wounds across his cheek and athwart his eyes. Veloth squealed in agony as he writhed about in his restraints. His cries brought a smile to Logvarine's tired complexion.

"It has been a long while since I have last done Boethiah any pleasure," he said, grabbing Veloth's head and drawing himself closer to his captive to whisper in his ear, "Perhaps I should give him a show, don't you agree?" he mocked his victim like a true disciple of the cruel Daedra prince. "I hope he's smiling at this right now." Veloth tried to stretch a smile upon his face, but it brought pain to his fresh wounds as blood trickled down his dark face and dripped down onto the floor and table.

"I bet you two enjoy being Hircine's Bitches!" he choked the words out of his throat, tired from shouting and screaming. Logvarine sent a quick jolt of shock magic racing up the man's arm, sending him into a brief convulsion.

"He is an agreeable lord… maybe I should show you his power." Logvarine removed his gloves as fur, thick and black, began to grow from his arms and hands as his fingers grew into razor sharp claws. His armor stretched with his new form as he morphed into the form of the wolf, kicking off his boots as his legs took shape. Veloth swallowed hard.

"_So many Daedra and Mortals alike have put their faith into me… and you dared to challenge my ideals, my power?"_ he could see his breath in the strangely cold subterranean room as he breathed out of his snout. _"In the name of every Aedra and every Daedra, I shall bring divine justice upon you and all of the Thalmor menace."_ He barred his fangs and hovered over Veloth, drooling onto his face as saliva seeped from in between his jowls. This horrific sight broke something inside Veloth that turned him from being a brave man into a frightened little boy.

"Wait, wait, wait! I-I-I'll tell you anything you want to know!"

"_I want to know what your final words will be as I find out what your heart tastes like…"_ he licked his lips menacingly and cackled with his wolfish grin. Before Veloth could object, Logvarine had ripped open the man's shirt and began carving Daedric glyphs into his chest with his claws. Logvarine cherished every scream like a fine meal being taken piece by piece and savored before finally swallowing. His animalistic instincts took hold and he began to lick his claws of his victim's blood. Veloth winced and sobbed as he felt his torturer's claws dig into his flesh. Logvarine activated the magic of the glyphs that he had placed and a burning pain like no other began to envelope Veloth entirely. He screamed louder than Logvarine had ever thought possible and thrashed about in his fetters looking for a way to escape. He found none.

Logvarine began to howl in enjoyment, bestial rage overtook him and he began to laugh and howl manically. He hated himself for enjoying it so, but he felt so very satisfied as the traitor continued on screaming. Logvarine grabbed Veloth's chin and drew him up from his prone position, still wriggling about. The werewolf's foul breath invaded Veloth's nose as the burning continued.

"_No one…"_ he began, _"No one… hurts… my… love…"_ he growled.

"Pl-pl-please-s-s-s stop… please!" Veloth cried on in vain as his tormentor cackled in his ear.

"_I will only stop when you can no longer scream… when the Daedra of the Tribunal drag you into oblivion… Then, will my desire for vengeance be quashed."_ He looked deep into his victims red eyes drenched in tears and blood. _"I may take all night…"_

* * *

More than five hours later, Logvarine emerged from the room with clean gauntlets and only a smudge of blood on his lips, which he wiped off with his cape. Rytel was still standing guard and he had a worried look on his face, and concern in his crimson eyes. Rytel opened his mouth to speak, but found himself choking on his words. Logvarine answered his question ahead of time.

"You won't want to go in there; I decorated the place quite thoroughly and you might not even be able to stomach it. Have someone with a strong stomach come in with a few bags…" and then he walked away. Rytel wanted to heed his warning, but part of him needed to know what had happened in there. When he looked in, he instantly wished he hadn't.


	29. Morrowind Special Reserve no V

"Something has happened? Hasn't it?" Nivard said implicationally from the other side of the stone strategy table. Low torch light lit the room a dull orange color with shadows draped over every surface. Logvarine looked up from his work and Nivard could see his tired eyes. He had gotten no sleep.

"Why would you say that?"

"You imprisoned five traitors, but there are only four in the cells. Your face is unusually pale today. What happened, Log'?" he crossed his arms and walked over to the dark elf.

"I… I'm planning our invasion of Solitude, can this wait until later?"

"No."

Logvarine sighed and then rubbed his face awake.

"Okay… Rytel probably hasn't cleaned up yet, so I guess I'll show you."

"Show me what?"

"You'll see…" Logvarine said as he approached the door to exit into the hallways.

Just one look into the room put a look of shock on Nivard's heavy face. He slowly turned to face his friend and then back at the grisly scene through the door.

"I knew you could be brutal… but by Ysmir's beard that is…" he paused and saw the almost guilty look on Logvarine's face. "For shit's sake, his body is in at least ten pieces!" he pointed up. "And is that his head!? Dear god!"

"SHHH! Do you want everyone to hear you?" Logvarine tried to calm him down. Nivard made a quick shuddering motion, shaking like the cold.

"As a werebear, even I wouldn't eat that." He threw his hands up, "Just saying."

"Look," Logvarine sighed, "Can we get back to the planning chambers, we have much to do?" Nivard grabbed Logvarine's shoulder.

"Fine, let's just forget this ever happened, alright?" Nivard said.

"Alright." Logvarine accepted. They spent the rest of the day planning out Logvarine's final resolution for the war over Skyrim: Take Solitude!

* * *

With the forces of the malevolent Mehrunes Dagon at his side, he predicted much more positive outcomes for the coming battle of Solitude. He had made a pact with the Daedric prince allowing Logvarine's warlocks and wizards to conjure the Prince's demons to serve them. There was no flip side to the agreement; Dagon merely wanted to watch the destruction and havoc unfold for his enjoyment. Within the next few months they would begin a war that they could not turn back from, and Logvarine could only hope that his people were ready and that all of the traitors had been expunged. The forces of Solitude were at least a thousand men strong, but within a month Logvarine could have members of the Vengeance from all over Tamriel under his command and ready to strike swiftly when called for.

The Imperials of Solitude would be outnumbered two to one, if not more.

Logvarine had many siege weapons and catapults at the ready, built and housed in secret locations known only to a few. Death would strike on a massive scale, but if he warned the civilians then their element of surprise would trickle away. Morals or Duty. He was not sure what to think of the matter. Day in, day out he would lean with his body over the map of Skyrim and place pins in the different points of entry into solitude, and places where he would expect their more important combatants to be stationed. General Tullius was the one man that worried him the most. The General was a good man, a good soldier, and Logvarine did not want to have to put his blade through him.

"What about the battle is nippin' at ya?" Nivard asked as he entered the room with a bottle of mead in his hand.

"I'm just worried, is all."

"What is there to worry about?" he nudged the bottle toward him. "You're the freaking Dragonborn!"

"No, you are the Dragonborn." He pointed at Nivard. "You delivered the final blow to Alduin, you fulfilled the prophecy… I just helped."

"You were of greater help than I, you know?"

"That is debateable." Logvarine said as he went back to his planning. He turned to his own bottle of spirits on the edge of the map and began to down the drink.

"You may not be THE Dragonborn, the LAST Dragonborn, the one of the legends. But you still have the blood of the dragon flowing through your veins." Nivard slammed his bottle down on the table, spilling a few drops of the sweet honeyed liquid onto the already stained map.

"And to think," Logvarine smiled, "Had Logelaine not turned on us, he would have likely become the most powerful of the three known Dragonborn… he would, for sure, be… the Last Dovahkiin of the Prophecy."

"But instead he killed…" Nivard found the name stuck in between his teeth. Logvarine managed to pull it from his own mouth.

"Paarthurnax…"

The two Dragonborn lowered their heads for a moment and then looked back up. Nivard took another drink.

"I still don't understand Logelaine's hatred for us… what did we do that made him so resentful?" Nivard said.

"I think it was my father, coupled with Logelaine's attempted execution at the hands of the Imperials. We want to heal the empire; he just wants to destroy it." He sighed. "He's on a revenge quest… but I suppose we are little different."

"Of course we're different!" Nivard shouted, "He carries out his justice selfishly, but we do it for the good of-!"

"And what of Veloth!?" Logvarine shouted back. The room died in the silence that followed. "Was that not justice brought on by my own selfish dark perversions!?" he said. Nivard could not find any words to respond with.

"I mutilated him and deprived him of an honourable death… he died like a chained up animal as I branded him like one. And I…" Logvarine was struggling not to scream in frustration, "And I enjoyed… every… moment of it…" it was then that Logvarine realized that he had drank the whole bottle of… well, he couldn't remember what it was by now, nor could he read the label. The liquor hit him like a bag of rocks straight to the gut. He fell back and slumped into the stone Dwemer chair that was seated behind him.

"Are you alright?" Nivard asked worriedly. Logvarine weakly shook his head.

"I jusht… drank it too… fasht…" he could feel his tongue losing feeling. The drink must have been something from Morrowind. He felt his head with his hand as the room began spinning.

"How much did you drink?" Nivard asked with an air of concern.

"Two *HIC* bottlesh." He was amazed that it took the first one this long to actually take effect, but maybe it was just the second bottle doing all of the work. Nivard grabbed the bottle out of his hand and looked at the label.

"Sujamma!? You drank two whole bottles of straight Sujamma!?"

"I'm… sh-tarting to f-f-feel the effectsh now…" he began laughing weakly, "I can't even feel my tongue mucsh…"

"C'mon Grey-face," Nivard said, grabbing him by the shoulder and gently picking his drunken friend up out of the seat, "Let's get you to bed. You've had a stressful few days…"

* * *

"What word from around the provinces?" Logelaine asked as Thunder and Lightning crackled outside of his tall castle windows like a battle between two heavenly warriors. He watched the spectacle from his chair in one of the rooms on the far side of the castle, untouched for nearly a century, if not more. They had done some renovating since taking refuge there.

Kagnor approached his throne-like seat and rested his arm on the headrest.

"The Thalmor have declared martial law in many western Hammerfell cities, for one."

"Continue." Logelaine requested.

"There has been talk of rejoining the empire among the council members of both Elswyr states." He sniffled slightly, sickened by the cold north winds, even though he was a nord. "Rebellion has increased drastically in many of the provinces, excluding Valenwood of course."

"Against the Dominion I presume?"

"Aye."

"Good."

"When do we strike?" Kagnor asked as he began pacing back and forth. The storm was still raging outside.

"We wait for someone to throw their cards onto the table, and then when we know how to deal with the hand that they were dealt, we place our bets." Logelaine cackled softly to himself.

Kagnor was just as sarcastic as usual.

"Lovely analogy of the situation."

"Thank you, I try."

* * *

"My scouts have reported an increased presence of Thalmor soldiers in the province. The locals are starting to rise up." Said the Hound.

Logvarine wiped his face of sleep and continued hovering over the map even as he yawned loudly.

"Let them try to quell the rebellion for a little. We will wait for the embers to burn momentarily before we stoke the fire."

Samuel stepped forward with his white hair draped in front of his eyes partially.

"And how long is that going to be?" he asked. Logvarine turned to face him.

"A few months, or until the Thalmor decide to use unnecessary force on their rebels." He scoffed, "Although in hindsight, that might just continue to add fuel to the fire in the hearts of these nords." He began rapping his gauntleted fingers on the table. "There is nothing like an atrocity to strengthen the flames of war."

"I will not be responsible for such an atrocity, if that is your plan." The Hound added.

"I would never do anything to the innocent of Skyrim. I thought you knew me better than that?" Logvarine defended. He grabbed his forehead and squeezed it sorely.

"I've got to give up skooma." He said as he looked over at the skooma pipe in the corner of the room.

"Maybe you should give the Sujamma a rest too." Suggested Samuel, "I heard about your night from Nivard."

"I haven't been sleeping well the last few nights." Logvarine explained. "Night terrors and the like."

"Samuel and I were the ones who cleaned up your… mess." The Hound implied. Logvarine slowly raised his head back up.

"So you see why I've been troubled then?" Logvarine nearly whispered. Samuel swept his hair back and then sighed.

"Rytel gave us the full story. This Mithron guy, can we trust him?"

"Of course, without a shred of doubt in my mind."

"Then we shall treat him as a brother." Declared the Hound as he stamped his spear on the ground. Logvarine nodded slowly.

"Thank you. He has been through a lot so show him kindness."

* * *

The next day things were not as hectic or stressful for the most part. Logvarine met with his chief lieutenants and devised the beginning stages of their invasion upon Solitude. Tylnar was arguing for a direct approach, but the others seemed to ignore him like usual. Suddenly, the door to their discussing room burst open and in came one of the guards with a smile on his face.

"What is this about?" Asked the now uncloaked Logvarine as he began to stand up.

"Someone is here to see you, and I think you'll want to see him too."

Logvarine departed the room with his envoy of lieutenants in tow and following the slow jogging guard. They walked, boots clacking on the stone as they trudged through the halls. They came to the door exiting his fortress, and then pushed the large iron doors to the side.

On the other side of the doors was a whole convoy of imperial dressed soldiers and at the head of their group was a dark elf and a Khajiit.

Warnarn's armor was ebony armor fashioned slightly in the style of an Imperial General, and Moon-cat's armor was black leather even darker than that of the nightingales.

How all of the imperial deserters managed to fit on the elevator down to the depths of their home was beyond Logvarine's understanding.

"FATHER!" cheered Logvarine as he ran forward, holding his sheathe back so it would not fling back and forth. Warnarn jogged forward and met his son half way as they embraced warmly.

"This is MY SON! The Dragonborn!" He cheered to his troops as he wrapped one arm around his son and stuck the other high into the air. They gave hoots and hollers of respect. It was understandable that a group of deserters would be so rowdy and uncontrollable. The large group of soldiers began to mingle with Logvarine's men, friendlily. Warnarn, former General of the imperial legion, leaned in and whispered to his son.

"Where is my daughter-in-law, hm?"

* * *

"Hmm…" hummed Logelaine in deep thought as he stared at the ceiling from his bed. Saline stirred beside him and pulled herself up against the headboard, resting her light gold haired head against it.

"Is something wrong?"

"I just… feel like something familiarly unpleasant is nearby, I feel a heated nervousness." He raised his hand to look up at it inquisitively.

"I'm sure that whatever it is," she said as she rubbed his bare chest of pale grey flesh, "It won't be a problem too big for you to handle."

"You're probably right, but how long can we survive with just the three of us and a thin network of spies?"

"As long as it takes, I'm sure."

With those words, Logelaine's restless thoughts were settled and they fell into deep sleep in each other's arms.


	30. Blood Stained Crowns

"So why did you encode that message anyways? It wasn't as if it was a difficult thing to decode." Logvarine asked his father as the men under both of their commands gathered around one another in the courtyard of their subterranean fortress. They were both sipping on their own bottles of winter cold mead. The yard was filled with poorly made wooden tables and chairs, which they too sat down in.

"Truthfully…" began Warnarn with a smirk on his wrinkled face, "I wanted to see if you were capable of a simple task, before having to take up more important duties." Logvarine began to laugh under his breath.

"Do you want to know how long," he had to stop to breathe for a second, "H-how long that took us!?" Warnarn began to laugh too and almost forced his mouthful of mead out of his nose.

"How long wassat!?" he slurred his words together like a drunkard, but Logvarine knew it was because he was laughing too hard to know or care otherwise. Logvarine slammed his bottle onto the table and declared:

"Two months!"

The two of them began to wale with explosive laughter. Warnarn had his head down and was pounding wildly onto the tabletop like he had been told the funniest story of his life. Maybe he had.

"By Azura's breasts, that is a long time to decode a fricken anagram!" Logvarine's father chugged down another gulp of the sweet drink and turned around suddenly as if he knew who was coming. Catath'een approached from behind her father-in-law before he could finish spinning toward her and wrapped her arms around his neck familiarly.

"Hello there, Lord Hlaalu. How have you been?" she asked as she gave him a slight peck on the cheek. The former general patted her hands with his.

"Just fine my dear. Have you spoken with your mother yet?"

"Yes, and we did some catching up, as have you I see." She pointed across the table to her husband. Warnarn nodded as Catath'een came around to the front of him and he opened his mouth in surprise as he saw how her belly had grown. It was a smaller lump than most people after what they guessed to be five months, but he made it seem like a much bigger deal.

"By the Nine!" he said in hushed astonishment. He turned to his son, "How many did you fill 'er with, boy!?" Warnarn said. Logvarine and his wife shared a laugh, but then Dygar burst in through the large iron gates, struggling to push them open by himself others rushed to help him. His thick nord face was beet red and sweat covered. His hair was drenched.

"Dygar! How goes-!" Logvarine was cut off by his scout.

"Log'! Log' it's horrible!"

"What? What is horrible, what has happened!?" he got out of his wooden chair and approached Dygar who then proceeded to grab the dark elf by his shoulders. Cat and Warnarn, as well as everyone else in the yard pointed their eyes in the direction of the new arrival.

"The Imperial City!" he was hard of breathing but carried on with the news regardless, "The Elves… have invaded! They've- they've declared martial law and their leader hath placed himself upon the throne of the Emperor!"

Logvarine could not think of a proper reaction for what news had reached his ears. The very thought of the Aldmeri Dominion attacking so early… clear disbelief was written upon Logvarine's face as he tried to form words but nothing came. Dygar continued.

"The bastards have begun a purge! They've killed off the homeless and the sick… they burned their bodies outside of the city! This is only the beginning of their plans!"

Once again, words did not cross Logvarine's lips like they had easily done so before. He had to act. Logvarine walked back over to the wall near the gate and climbed his way up the staircase. He found himself in the view of a few hundred men as he stepped right near the ledge of the wall and faced his loyal soldiers.

"Brothers and Sisters! Hear me now!" he declared in a powerful voice that shook the hearts of his men, "The Thalmor has acted. I swore that when that time came when they decided to disregard the lives of our citizens that I would react swiftly and brutally!" All of the eyes in the keep were glued to him and only him.

"I planned on marching upon Solitude within the year, but it seems 'tis no longer an option! We will strike within the time of at most five months, and not a second longer if it comes to that time! I need everyone to work at twice their speed to make sure that we are prepared when the time comes to retake Skyrim for the true empire! These men and women of the Dominion have destroyed what little of the empire truly remained and I can only assume that the rest of the empire has already sworn fealty to this false emperor! I WILL NOT HAVE IT!"

He was putting his emotions into his words now. Warnarn was staring up at his son in absolute amazement and it almost brought a tear to his crimson eyes.

"… That's my boy…" he whispered to himself.

"From Skyrim we will make a bastion for hope and salvation for anyone loyal to the true empire! And we will fend off the Dominion to our dying breaths if need be! I will gather together all those left in Tamriel who oppose the Altmer war mongers and together we shall take back our empire!" People began raising their fists in the air and nodding in agreement. He was a charismatic leader to say the least.

"Blood shall be spilled upon the White-Gold Tower in the name of the TRUE EMPIRE! Vengeance shall be ours as the Concordat that damned our Lord Talos burns for all to see! We will light up the night sky with the flames of our hatred for the usurpers as we march upon their newly taken white city and cut them down as they try to cower behind OUR citizens!" Cheers and hollers began to roar throughout. Screaming his thoughts aloud like this made Logvarine feel good, very good. He felt powerful.

"And then when WE destroy their pathetic dominion and all is done, I shall place the Red dragon crown upon a true Nord's head! A Nord with the blood and Soul of a dragon, and the courage of thousands!" he motioned his hand down to where he could see Nivard standing in the crowd. Everyone turned to look at who Logvarine declared to be their emperor.

"The Dovahkiin of the Prophecy of Alduin's wall! My friend and brother! Nivard Iron-Claw the first, of Frostcrag Spire!" Logvarine declared in his kingly voice.

Nivard looked absolutely dumbstruck and he too had no way to react to something so shocking.

"My Ancestor Logvar served the mighty Nord Tiber Septim before and after he had risen to claim the amulet of kings and the red dragon crown! I, a dark elf like my forefathers, will swear my loyalty to you, a Nordic Dragonborn, on the day that you take on the mantle of Emperor of Tamriel! As it should be! As it was! As it may always be forever after as long as our lines still live on!" Logvarine stopped himself for a moment to breath, and then continued like his lunges were fresh from the gods themselves.

"I had planned on giving this speech at a much later time, but it seems that now is appropriate. Talos Storm-Crown once said "_I do this for you, Red Legions, for I love you!_" and so too, do I love you, brother! Let me do this for you. A Dunmer cannot rule an Empire… it must be a human of the dragon blood! Since the Septims have passed there has been no Dragonborn Emperor! YOU shall be that Emperor! Let me deliver you to your crown!" he held his hand out again and paused. After what felt like forever, Nivard slowly started walking forward toward the stairs with his cape draped behind him trailing on the ground. He tried his hardest to compose himself as he climbed the steps and came to stand beside Logvarine. Nivard had tears in his eyes now.

"If this… is what you want… then I shall accept… this burden!" Nivard surprised Logvarine with a tight and passionate hug that only the closest of friends could share. Logvarine took his friend's hand and raised it into the air.

"This man will be your EMPEROR!"

The cheers went on for the longest time.

* * *

"That was a good show Logvarine put on tonight." Cat said to Logvarine in her odd perspective based speech that she seemed to use on and off. Logvarine smiled as he lay down on their bed and watched his wife undress. He was already stark naked.

"It was no show. I will bring him to the Imperial City and place the crown upon his head myself." He stopped to breath in the air around him. "It will be a better life."

Catath'een removed all of her clothes and waltzed her way over to the bed with love unhidden in her blue eyes. They moved closer together and touched their foreheads. They looked down at Cat's belly and the rounding of it. They both smiled and giggled slightly.

"What do you want our children to be when they mature?" Logvarine asked.

"Warriors, scholars, laborers or mages. It does not matter to Catath'een." She said third-perspective-like, "It is her children's happiness that matters to her."

"As it does to Logvarine." He replied as he brushed his hand against her cheek. "As does Catath'een's happiness."

"I've been happy since the day I met you in your room with Niv'." She said.

"You remember that?"

"I would never want to forget one of the happiest days of my life." She said beaming like the sun. They kissed and then fell asleep holding each other close, never wanting to let go.

* * *

"We sent out Preden to confirm the situation in the Imperial City…" The Hound began as many of Logvarine's more trusted men sat around the stone table, "He returned with a look of horror on his face." Logvarine's hands were folded in front of his face as he leaned forward in his seat.

"T'was just as I feared. We must gather our forces and prepare to march for the Blue Palace and Castle Dour."

"Do you forget the forces that may be present there?" Mithron interrupted. Logvarine stared at him as Mithron paced back and forth behind Logvarine's lieutenants.

"No more than two thousand men."

"Wrong." Mithron said. Logvarine seemed confused.

"And how do you figure that I am wrong?"

"Do you not think that they will send Thalmor soldiers to help defend one of their last strategic points in Skyrim? The only holds that have not joined our cause are the Reach and Haafingar so they will likely hold them with their lives." Mithron argued. There were hushed murmurs of agreement from around the small room. Logvarine nodded to Mithron and then slouched back.

"Then we must prepare even faster." He declared as the rest of the room seemed to agree. Em-shei stood up out of his seat and leaned over the table.

"I will gather my Brothers and Sisters of the darkness. I also have some pull in Black marsh so I'll see what I can do for recruitment there." He brushed back his head feathers and spines and then sat back down.

"Aye," said Gatel as he too stood upward, "We can set off for Black light and gather the great houses of Morrowind under our banner. We will tell them the stakes and they will join us."

"I will gather the lycanthrope tribes," Said the Hound, "When the risk of annihilation runs this high they will be sure to join us whether they want to or not." Tylnar stood up and snarled.

"I will head for Orsinium and gather those who would still serve the empire! The provincial status of our city was under review by the imperials, but with the elves in control it will never become more than a city of pariahs." Tyr'ique took to his feet as well.

"The Khajiits of Elswyr know that they will be enslaved by their elven overlords should the bastards succeed. I will travel to my homeland and bring together the hill tribes; they will listen when I speak of the terrors to come." Logvarine nodded his head.

"Hammerfell has already joined our cause luckily so they can hold the line while we prepare to take Skyrim." He rapped his fingers on the table, "Cavek, do you think you could find anyone in Valenwood to join us?"

"The tribes of the Bosmer will surely join us; they have been oppressed for a long time by the Altmer but have not found the courage to revolt." Cavek informed Logvarine.

"Good."

"We also have the guards of each of the seven holds that we now have control of." Reminded Nivard, "Their Jarls have sworn loyalty to a free empire and they will join us."

"Then we must take the Reach…" reminded Logvarine as he began to plan in his head. "Very well. Gatel, you and I will set off for Mournhold and then for Black light. Nivard, you are in charge in my stead and everyone else… do what you promised, and do what you can."

Everyone in the room said, "Aye!" and walked out through the door. Logvarine stopped Nivard on his way out and spun him around.

"You might as well get used to leading," he said, "I will return in a month's time. Keep Cat safe."

"No harm will come to her."

"Thank you." They hugged and then released as Gatel and Logvarine made for their horses.


	31. Crossings

After saying goodbye to his Father and his Wife, Logvarine along with Gatel took their horses and replaced their saddles with a carriage. The two Dunmer mounted atop of the wooden coach and Gatel took the reins in his bulky hands. Logvarine waved back at Catath'een as they rode off through the snow covered trail. One month, surely he would only be gone for one month. His heart raced; he would finally get to visit his ancestral homeland. He would get to feel the ashes between his toes and the harsh winds against his cheeks as they crossed the wastes.

Gatel was always a friendly sort, never prone to violent acts or vulgar words. That was part of the reason why Logvarine was drawn toward him in a way, because in a tense situation he could simply turn to look at Gatel and then he would once again be able to think rationally. He had that effect on people. Catath'een, Gatel and Logvarine would often gather in the tower and tell of their exploits across the province that they, at that time, called their home. So Logvarine was not overly shocked by the conversation that was about to take place.

Hours had passed and they were not even half way to Whiterun yet. Small talk with one another kept them sane on the long journey, but they had not really talked about what the plan was when they reached Blacklight and then Mournhold. All of a sudden, Gatel's hands tightened around the reins and he breathed a solemn sounding sigh into the cold Skyrim air.

"Can I talk frankly?" he asked. Logvarine turned his head as the horses continued to clop leisurely across the trail, heading east.

"There is no other way to talk amongst friends." Logvarine answered.

"I'm just not sure how you will react to what I have to say?"

"I promise that I won't do anything rash."

Gatel sighed once again.

"I've always had feelings for Catath'een…" he seemed to regret the words as soon as they slipped from his mouth. Logvarine wasn't sure exactly how to react, but neither was he surprised to hear this.

"Really?" he faked his look of surprise.

"Yes… But you deserve her, and she deserves you. I just needed to get that off of my chest." Gatel said hastily. Logvarine leaned back in the passenger seat of the carriage and pulled his arm behind Gatel.

"Why did you never act upon those feelings?" he asked. Gatel seemed to be sinking into a more depressed-looking state with every second.

"I… I didn't think that I was good enough for her. She deserved better than me, so now here we are."

"Not good enough?" Logvarine could feel his pain, immense pain, "Why do you cut your pride like that, Sera? You would make a fine mate for anyone lucky enough."

"You have a lineage of superior quality to most. An Imperial soldier, born and raised to fight valiantly and with honor. Me?" he stopped and wiped a bead of sweat from his face. But it was so cold out? "A farm boy; a farm boy! Do you not see how I would consider myself inferior?"

"You are NOT inferior! You are one of the chosen few whom I would trust Cat's life with!"

Gatel pulled on the reins suddenly and the two steeds came to a halt. The snow fell gently around them without any wind to guide their paths to the ground.

"Really?" Gatel looked like he had just heard some of the most surprising news in the world.

"Of course. You cannot tell me that you have never noticed the way that she looked at you before we were together."

"The way that she looked at me?"

"Sometimes, she still looks at you with that same love in her eyes. You are one of her closest friends." Logvarine poked his friend in the shoulder.

"I always… avoided making eye contact with her." Gatel said awkwardly. Logvarine was not sure if he should say what he was thinking of saying, but he did anyways.

"Do you want to know something else?"

"What?"

"If something happened to me… you're the person I'd trust the most to take care of her." Logvarine had said it. Gatel shook his head.

"Please, don't say that."

"I did, because it is the truth." Logvarine grabbed Gatel's shoulder, "because you're the only other person who cares about her as much as I do." He patted his friend's shoulder. Gatel quickly wiped something from his eye.

"Thanks. I… I think I needed to hear something like that."

"We understand each other enough that there is no need for thanks, it is simply implied." Logvarine said as he smiled. Gatel smiled back as he grabbed at the reins and started the horses up again.

"Ha, sometimes I wish the whole world understood each other like that."

"If only we were so lucky."

* * *

Hours after their unintentional heart-to-heart and they were now arriving at Whiterun. The city was always so beautiful to behold from beyond the gates, its tall stone walls guarding the treasures that lay inside.

"Should we stop?" Gatel asked.

"No, let's keep going. We have a lot of ground to cover." Logvarine decided. Gatel whipped the reins and called to their horses. The two steeds reared up and then shot off down the trail.

"Then I'll make sure that we keep good time." Gatel said with a smirk. The horses, one brown and the other black, rocketed down the path as steam rose from their nostrils and trailed behind their manes in the cold. They were more than a kilometre away from Whiterun when Logvarine's head shot up.

"Stop the cart." He said. Gatel pulled on the reins hard and the horses whinnied as they skidded across the dirt and came to a stop. They were facing a cliff leading down to a river on their left, and a thick mountain forest on their right. The wind was still nonexistent in the calm air of the day. No sun shone through the thick grey clouds above. Gatel leaned toward Logvarine and whispered in his ear.

"I smell it too…" he said. Logvarine pulled his hood and cowl up to mask his appearance. Only his sharp red eyes showed through the disguise. Gatel's hand glided toward his bandolier which held his many throwing knives, and his other hand found its way to his side where his long sword was. Logvarine held out his hand and his Dwemer crossbow appeared from a daedric portal enveloped in shadow. He loaded a single flaming dwarven bolt into the bow and then without warning shot at a tree. The tree did not light on fire, nor did it even hit the tree. It hung in the air as the wind shifted around it and blood oozed from a non-existent wound. A Thalmor agent appeared from out of thin air with the bolt stuck deep in his chest, burning his delicate flesh through his dark robes. He slumped against the tree and slid down until his rump had reached the ground.

Logvarine got out of the carriage with Gatel close behind. Logvarine had put the bow on his back and drawn Paarthurnax instead. Gatel notched an arrow in his bonemold bow and he held it to the elf on the ground. Blood seeped from the gash in his chest and streamed onto the ground. Logvarine put his dragon bone sword to the Altmer's throat and the man's fine skin began to burn.

"You are a bunch of sly bastards, you know that?" Logvarine mocked. The elf's mouth began to quiver as he tried to show no weakness, but it was in vain as he coughed and blood came welling up from his oesophagus to coat his chin. Logvarine and Gatel alike saw the elf's eyes dart over to their left.

Gatel turned and released his arrow from the bow as it cut through the air with a faint whistling sound and placed its head in nothing. Another Altmer appeared gripping at his throat where the arrow had pierced his neck and blood trickled down his neck onto his robes. He fell to the ground, dead. Logvarine saw no need to get information out of a grunt.

"May Talos and the Eight have mercy on your soul." He said as he dragged the blade across the width of the tree, severing the Thalmor agent's head from his shoulders. Logvarine raised his hand with a strange blue magical aura surrounding it. He swished it through the air and then suddenly five red auras showed through the bushes and trees nearby in the shapes of men.

"Face us!" Logvarine called out. An elven arrow shot a streak of gold across the forest and only narrowly missed Logvarine's head, instead landing at the side of the carriage. The horses reared up in surprise. Logvarine charged forward as the foliage erupted with five men dressed in golden tinted armor obviously of elven craftsmanship. Gatel swiped two throwing knives from his chest and watched as they sliced through the air, one piercing an elf in the chest, opening his armor, and the other rebounding off of his helmet. He staggered back as Gatel finished him off with a slash from his long sword.

Logvarine deflected the attack of another Altmer and then pushed the Altmer's sword up to sink his own into his enemy's abdomen. He ripped it from the man, coated in blood being quickly burnt off by the aura of fire emanating from the bone blade. Logvarine quickly unsheathed the Breath of Ysmir and leapt forward at another of the interlopers. With his shield, the Thalmor soldier nearly knocked Paarthurnax from Logvarine's hand, but staggered him back just the same. Logvarine snarled as he slashed across the man's unguarded leg with his icy sword and watched him sink onto one knee in pain. Logvarine quickly finished him off by digging his flaming blade into the downed soldier's chest; he pushed him off of his sword with his foot, and the soldier's body collapsed to the ground with the clattering sound of his armor.

One of the Altmer notched an arrow carefully and steadily in his bow and took aim at Logvarine as he went after another target. He had no time to let off his arrow when Gatel sunk his blade into the elf's shoulder and pushed it further until it came out near his hip, spurting blood everywhere.

Logvarine blocked his final adversary's attack and pushed him back as he held out his hand. A funnel shaped inferno vented from Logvarine's outstretched hand and encircled the Altmer who was then cooked alive in his armor. He screamed on and on until Logvarine showed him mercy with the tip of his sword through his neck. The fire continued to crackle as embers fell to the dirt.

"Are you hurt?" Gatel asked. Logvarine sheathed his blades and began walking back to the cart where their horses seemed quite spooked. He calmed down their steeds with a gentle touch on their heads.

"I'm fine, let us continue onward." Logvarine declared.

* * *

East. They had finally reached the border of Skyrim and Morrowind after more than another two days of nonstop travel with their horses running in full sprint most of the way. They were tired and found no rest along the way. They did not want to stop, they wanted to see Morrowind for themselves and to behold the misunderstood beauty of their ancient homeland. They slowed down as they approached the crossing between the two provinces. Autumn colored leaves decorated the trees of the rift all year long and here was no exception. A Dunmer man stood at the arch leading through to their homeland with a full set of bonemold armor encasing him. Five other guards were posted around the general area.

"Identification please?" He asked. Logvarine was about to speak but Gatel interrupted him.

"The prophets of Vivec weep for the sorrows of Azura." He said. The man in the bonemold armor hid a look of surprise underneath his yellowed helmet. He stepped to the side.

"You may pass, enjoy your time in Morrowind." He said. The two dunmer in the carriage nodded their heads in thanks and then continued through the arch.

For at least another kilometer it was the same golden colored forests, until they finally reached an area where the dust kicked up with the winds and trees dotted the landscape of sparse grass. They had finally entered Morrowind. It was a strange landscape even on the mainland. The trees' leaves were green, and their bark brown, but small mushrooms also grew from the dusty dirt. The trees had branches that seemed to shoot out in random directions, twisting around like the trees of a swamp, but with actual leaves instead of mossy damp ones that hung off of the branches like wet clothes.

"So this is Morrowind?" Gatel breathed as the dust blew past them.

"I never thought it would look so-!" Logvarine felt a blow from his right and turned to push away whatever was upon him. It was an insect looking creature but with a body in the shape of a dog, a chitinous and green dog. It had beady red eyes that stared directly into Logvarine's. It possessed rangy legs with claws tipping them and they tore at Logvarine's armor in vain as it could not pierce the dark metal. A Long stock stuck out at Logvarine; a feeding tube, and below that were two feelers like an insect's antennae. With all of his might, Logvarine pushed both himself and the creature out of the carriage and onto the dusty trail. When the creature was on its back Logvarine grabbed what appeared to be its neck and then twisted. Logvarine got back to his feet as he watched the thing twitch in the dirt before dying. Gatel leaned forward.

"Nix-Hounds." He laughed, "Seems like everything from Vvardenfel HAS migrated to the mainland after all."

"It's not like they can stay on that ash-covered island forever. They would starve." Logvarine theorized as he hopped back onto the cart and brushed himself off. "Let's head north, for Blacklight."

* * *

"Look at it!" Gatel said as he marvelled at the city of Blacklight. Canals ran throughout the city and people navigated them with small canoe-like boats and the water reflected the setting sun. After stabling their horses, Logvarine and Gatel walked through the City gate and gazed on in amazement. Redoran guards in bonemold armor stood at attention at the entrance and watched as the two foreign dunmer entered their city. Redoran and similar Dunmer architecture was the dominant feel of the city as they walked past dunmer with facial features visibly different from them. They had scrunched faces that forced their expression into a permanent sneer that made them look angry. People of other races passed them as well, but they appeared significantly underdressed compared to the lords and ladies of the city.

They eventually reached a bridge leading out to a small plateau surrounded by water in the middle of the city. The Rootspire. From here, the temple of Azura across the way too was visible. The two dunmer crossed the bridge and set foot onto the plateau as ten guards approached them. They were dressed in extravagant looking armor and robes with large halberds in their hands. One of them stepped forward.

"State your business in the Rootspire!" he had a very thick Dunmeri accent. Logvarine stepped toward them, but was once again stopped by his traveling partner.

"The Prophets of Vivec weep for the sorrows of Azura." Gatel said once again. The guard nearly gasped, but then moved to the side.

"Enter, but do not betray our trust, Sera." He said. The other guards all stepped to the side to allow their passage. Logvarine looked confused, but dared not argue right now. The doors opened magically as they approached to allow them into the tower.

"What in Oblivion is with that 'Prophets of Vivec' thing?" Logvarine asked. Gatel waited until they were out of the guards' earshot.

"Something that my father told me about." Gatel answered in a very unspecific way. "In case I would ever need to return to Morrowind, where my family belongs."

"What?"

"My family is Redoran, Logvarine." Gatel said just before the set of doors at the end of the hallway opened for them. The both of them entered the main chamber of the spire and the eyes of all of the council members were immediately glued to their visitors. Cold red stares that cut through the air.

"Who is this that demands our council?" said one of the councillors dressed in a lavish and baggy red and yellow set of robes as he stood up from his chair. Logvarine turned to Gatel, and Gatel nodded to tell him that it was his turn to speak. Logvarine took a step forward and gathered his cloak behind him, removing his cowl and hood to show his face.

"This is Gatel of House Redoran. I am Logvarine Jesh, formerly of House Hlaalu." Logvarine was stopped by another councillor who rudely pushed his chair back and stood up to point at Logvarine accusingly.

"This outlander is of House Hlaalu! We cannot trust him, head councillor Telayn!" the dunmer blurted out. Logvarine kept his composure. Telayn held his hand up to silence his fellow councillor.

"He is also of House Jesh, and they severed all ties to Hlaalu after the Red Year. You are too quick to jump, councillor." He turned to face Logvarine, "Tell us of your opinion of House Hlaalu so that my colleague's worries may be put to rest."

"While I still agree with their ideals, councillor, I have revoked House Hlaalu as my House ever since they turned to dishonorable tactics to re-establish their place as a Great House." He stopped to breath for a moment and then put his hands behind his back. "Maybe one day they can prove themselves once again, but until then House Redoran is the best hope for the people of Morrowind." He answered and hoped to the gods that his honesty would pay off. Telayn turned back to the other councillor.

"You see. There is nothing to fear from a member of House Jesh." He said. The other councillor did not sit back down.

"He is so quick to revoke his house of ancestry? What kind of dunmer would abandon his House so readily!?"

"Now you are coming up with reasons to be rid of me." Logvarine interrupted. Gatel bit his lip as Telayn turned to him, but turned back to the councillor once again. Telayn spoke in Logvarine's defense.

"He is right, Councillor. His former house has no place here and you wish to speak ill of him because he wants to support our House?"

The other Councillor sat down now with a snarling complexion.

"We will receive you now…" Telayn smiled, "Dragonborn…"


	32. A Gamble With Mercy

2E, 848 – Six years before the reign of Tiber Septim, now renown as Talos the Ninth Divine…

A Dunmer man with a rough grey beard and a blue robe took the weight off of his feet upon a boulder beside the path leading toward Cyrodil and out of Skyrim, just southeast of Falkreath. He took his hood down to reveal his black hair, long but greying just the same as his beard. His red eyes watched over the vast forests here, and he had heard much from the north east about a warrior. It was a warrior with his name upon the tongues of the Greybeards. This was what his Nord father had told him about, that someday he would be forced to choose between country or kin. Not the Dunmer, but of his Nordic brothers that he was raised up around. He heard the galloping of many horses coming up the northern road, so he put his sword at the ready sheathed upon his waist. Perhaps this would be the day of his choice.

From the trail came a stampede of armed and armored men riding upon their sturdy Skyrim bred steeds. All of the people in this mass horde of individuals were of human origins, mostly nords. At their head was a man with a sternly held expression and a winged helmet. Logvar somehow knew that this was the man his friends had spoken of.

The dunmer waited until the horse mounted man had stopped in front of him and the dust had settled from their horses' hooves and then he spoke.

"So you are Hjalti Early-beard? I am honored that you have stopped before me." He lowered his head as the horses whinnied and Talos' men grunted impatiently. He had not yet taken the name Talos, but as a god he is eternal so present/past/future-tense is of the least importance.

Hjalti looked at the elf with curious eyes. This elf was not an enemy, but could he be a friend? The young warrior tugged upon his horse's reins and trotted toward the elf who continued to watch him expectantly. He stopped within a foot of him and breathed in the cold air noisily. When the man spoke his voice was commanding but at the same time somehow gentle and understanding.

"What is a Dunmer doing so far from Morrowind?"

"I am no dunmer, Milord." He answered as he stared into the eyes of the future god, "I was raised by nords of Skyrim. My veins are of ice, not fire."

"I am no Lord, and I have never heard of a Nordic Dunmer before. Why do you sit here?"

"I was waiting."

"Waiting? Waiting for what?"

The dunmer smiled slightly.

"My future…" he reached back into his pack that rested upon the stones and produced a small axe decorated with Nordic runes and some feathers. Whispers came from the crowd as the dunmer handed it to the leader of the warriors with the hilt pointed forward.

Talos took it in his metal covered hands and looked at it. The dunmer spoke once again.

"Are you my future? Are you the future of Tamriel?"

Tiber stared in amazement at the dark elf's trust in him, a nord, after all the transgressions that their people had faced at the hands of his. But he was not really a dark elf after all.

"You do me great honor in handing me this axe in such good faith."

"Is there any other way to hand a man your axe?" The Dunmer said cleverly. He swore that on that day, he saw a god smile. Talos put the axe in his pack and motioned to a man in the crowd of horses.

"Bring our friend…" he hesitated.

"Logvar." Logvar answered.

"Bring Logvar a horse, he will be riding with us to meet with King Cuhlecain." He nodded toward Logvar and he nodded back. Murmurs of obvious unrest arose from the crowd. "If any of you have a problem with a Grey-skin joining us then you shall have to deal with him AND me." He declared powerfully. The voices were silenced by his commanding personality.

"You have the makings of a true leader." Logvar said as he dismounted the rock and mounted upon his new horse. "Thank you." He said to the nord who brought him his steed. The man did not seem to acknowledge him.

"Have you fought in a war before, Logvar?" Hjalti asked.

"I have been around since the EbonHeart Pact was formed. I fought on the behalf of Dunmer and Nord alike, and people called me a Hero." Logvar lamented over the days of old. Tiber seemed even more surprised.

"That war was over two hundred years ago."

"Aye."

"You are experienced then?" Tiber asked.

"I can still swing a sword, I can still be of use to you." He felt the mane of his horse, but then suddenly grasped it in his fist and smiled. "But I'd prefer there'd be mead and wenches on the other side of our long road."

Talos scoffed.

"You and more than half of my troops."

Logvar let go of his horse's mane and stroked it softly with his left hand as he put his hood back up with his right hand.

"Regardless of the spoils, the old empire needs to be revived or else the elves will retake the entire continent."

"Aye, and is that why you have decided to give me your axe, or do you just want to use us until you no longer have need?" Talos asked inquisitively and threateningly as his men watched for an answer. Logvar looked back at him with a completely straight face. Snow began to fall gently down around them.

"I will gladly place my own head upon a spike should I betray you." He replied. "The axe that I gave to you was my oath of allegiance, and I pray that my loyalty will never grow frail, just like my axe which I have forged to be as unbreakable as my spirit. I am your sword. I am your shield. You just need to wield me."

"Spoken like a true Son of Skyrim." Tiber said as he whipped his horse's reins.

They were bound for Cyrodil.

* * *

4E, 204 – present day…

"Quite the architecture you have here." Logvarine commented as he walked down the strangely organic looking halls of the spire, and towards their quarters for the time being. Councillor Telayn led both him and Gatel down the halls of brown and almost chitinous-looking rock. Guards in very lavish gold, blue and white armor passed by them every few moments. A Khajiit woman in very skimpy clothing passed by them as well, with her head hung low – her eyes caught his for only a moment. Logvarine's eyes lingered, wondering what she could be doing in this tower.

"Thank you. I wish to apologize for how my colleagues have decided to act; a great many of us are not very open people."

"No apology needed councillor," Logvarine informed him, "What we do need, however, is an army." Telayn stopped his stride and turned to face his guests. He sighed.

"I want to help you, but we will need to convince the other councillors." Gatel stepped forward.

"People are dying councillor, and they are not being very discriminate where race is involved." Gatel took one gutsy step forward. Perhaps Logvarine had been influencing him more than he had thought, "They will march upon our borders someday, and by then it will be too late to stop them."

"I want to help more than any other councillor here, but even the head councillor has his limitations. I cannot order our armies to march south until we are in agreement." He turned back around and began walking again.

"What do we do then?" Logvarine asked.

"We will wait until tomorrow for debate, until then rest up."

* * *

"Is there anymore news from our man on the inside?" Logelaine asked from the shadows of Castle Vulkihar as Kagnor closed the gates to the castle behind him. The nord removed his ebony helmet that had frosted over and he sniffled as a drop of snot hung out his nostril.

"He says that they will be sacking Solitude in the next few months." Kagnor wiped under his nose with his hood and walked down the double staircase, placing his helmet on the table at the bottom of the stairs. Kagnor's eyes tweaked into a look of slight disgust, but more of concern as he got closer to Logelaine.

Apart from his skin being even more alarmingly pale than usual, Logelaine's eyes were an even far brighter yellow than was the norm. His face was gaunter and strangely misshapen as well. His nose was even more bat-like than before, practically flat and his nostrils flared open, but split apart like that of the night creature itself. His fangs were completely barred forward and he was forced to talk around them, and his ears – already pointy as a rule – were even more so.

"You don't look so good… do you maybe want to..." The nord showed his neck forward to the vampire. Logelaine thought about what he was asking for a moment before recoiling back.

"What- you? No, no, no, no… NO! Gods No!"

"Shor's bones! When was the last time that you fed?" he inquired worryingly as he covered his neck back up. Logelaine felt his lips quiver around his incisors as he tried to speak.

"It has been at least a month…"

"Dear Gods…" Kagnor gasped.

"I might go out on the hunt later tonight if the weather is in our favor." Logelaine said as he turned back to the hallway. He began walking toward the smithing shop and Kagnor followed. On the anvil rested Logelaine's nearly finished masterpieces. Two freshly smithed Sais – small dagger-like blades with another smaller blade sticking upward on each side of the hilt, for disarming opponents.

"I discovered some ancient Akaviri scrolls in the library. I am fascinated by their craftsmanship."

"Even so, you crafted these, not them." Kagnor pointed out. Logelaine grabbed up the two blades, smoothed out but without their hilts decorated properly. He flicked them around in his hands and flipped them about nimbly as if he had always known how. He placed them back down with a smile on his face.

"They're not done, but when they are I will have no need to sob over that broken katana any longer."

"Why don't you just make a new Akaviri katana?" Kagnor asked. Logelaine remained silent for a moment.

"That's actually not a bad idea either."

* * *

"Why did you never tell me you were a Redoran?" Logvarine asked as he undressed his armor and placed it beside his bed. Shadows wisped around the armor as it touched the ground, protecting it from those who were not chosen by Boethiah. Gatel's bed was just a few feet from Logvarine's and only a single nightstand made from the husk of a mushroom separated the two beds in the guest room. Gatel sat down on his bed and breathed easy that they could finally rest.

"Because you were Hlaalu. It was not a particularly sound idea." Gatel admitted. Logvarine did not appear fond of his excuse as he sat down on his own bed only in his robes.

"I would have thought nothing of it."

"How was I supposed to know that?" Gatel rebutted. Logvarine rubbed his head impatiently.

"We need to trust each other Gat; there is no other way for us to do this." Logvarine felt his chin and noticed that his stubble had turned into a full grown scruff on his chin. "Is there a font around here to wash up in? I really need a good shave."

"I think that door leads to a font room." Gatel pointed to a door on Logvarine's side of the room.

"Good." He crossed over his bed and opened the door. There was indeed a water source on the other side of the candlelit room. "I'll be just a moment." He said before closing the door behind him.

After a minute of freshening up and shaving his scruffy mug, Logvarine emerged feeling renewed and climbed back onto his temporary bed. The furs adorning the mattresses were from a creature unknown to Logvarine, even with his extended knowledge on fauna of all types. He got underneath the covers of the bed and looked over at Gatel who had already gotten comfortable.

"Goodnight." Logvarine said.

"Goodnight, Sera." Gatel replied. Logvarine blew out the candle on the nightstand and the room was enveloped in darkness like a warm blanket.

* * *

Steam sizzled off of the rough looking blade of the katana as Logelaine poured a pint of clay mixture and water over the red hot metal. Kagnor walked in to behold the shirtless vampire slaving in such heat.

"Are you sure that's how you make it? I've never seen a sword made like that before." Kagnor commented. Logelaine continued to work on the blade.

"It says to do it this way, so I will do it this way." He answered, "I still have a few more layers of steel to meld onto it."

"The blade will be far too thick!" The nord exclaimed. Logelaine sighed in disappointment.

"You compress it and then lengthen it you buffoon!" he put the pint down and sparks flew as he began to hammer on the blade before putting it back over the fire, "Otherwise it would be a giant hunk of steel and nothing more." Kagnor threw up his arms defensively.

"Well SORRY, Mr. Blacksmith that I don't think a thin piece of flimsy steel will go up well against a broad sword!"

Logelaine continued hammering on the blade, grabbing another piece of metal from the side of his work station to meld it with the blade.

"That blade that broke was an antique with a touch of vampiric power, and that still lasted me more than a year. A fresh blade will last me a lifetime." He heated the other piece of steel before placing it beside the other cut of metal. He turned to look at Kagnor, "It will be anything but flimsy."

* * *

It was around five in the afternoon now in Blacklight and both Gatel and Logvarine sat down at a large and long dinner table with the council members and their friends present. Some were rather accepting of the new arrivals, some however were more than displeased as their stares told them. Gatel and Logvarine sat right across the table from each other, close to the middle of the thirty foot long slab of wood, or what they assumed to be wood. Telayn sat beside Logvarine.

"Thank you for inviting us, Councillor." Logvarine said as he bowed his head slightly forward.

"It would be rather rude of us to not invite our guests for dinner, wouldn't it not." He said as he reached forward and grabbed what appeared to be a steamed ash yam. Logvarine hoped that his stomach could acclimatize to the new food of his homeland quickly. Gatel was surrounded on both sides by two beautiful looking dunmer women, and he seemed to be having a very good time.

Logvarine reached out and grabbed a roll from the center plate, putting his hood and cowl down to eat appropriately.

"Ah," Telayn said, "Here comes the main course." A few women of different races came out with plates of food, but none of them were dunmer. Logvarine paid them no heed as it would take them a while to get to their side of the table.

"What was the verdict?" Logvarine asked the councillor. The councillor looked nervous, so Logvarine knew the answer before he had revealed it.

"We have decided that you will need to prove yourself before we can dispense our military to fight for you."

Logvarine appeared very tense, and he grasped at his leg plates with his gauntlets.

"I am an impatient man, Councillor. People are dying."

"I know, Logvarine. That makes this so much harder, but none of the other councillors believe in your true potential." Telayn explained, trying not to offend their visitant. Logvarine could feel the heat of anxiety gathering in his head. What would he do to save the people of Cyrodil?

"I will try to prove myself to them, councillor. But I can feel my willpower growing thinner and thinner – I'm not sure how much longer I can keep myself from snapping."

"Please," the councillor pleaded, "Just give them a little more time to-!" they were interrupted by a Khajiit servant with a plate of food for Logvarine. She placed it down in front of him and he spoke.

"Thank you." He said as he looked up into her eyes.

It was the girl from the night before – she could not have been any older than sixteen. Logvarine's eyes wandered down and Telayn could feel his own nervousness intensifying. As Logvarine's eyes settled on the girl's wrists he saw that she was wearing enchanted manacles. He looked back up and then stared into her eyes. The pain that it sent racing through him to stare into her gaze – her empty, tortured gaze – that was what snapped him.

"Logvarine…" Telayn said calmly, "Don't do anything-!"

Logvarine pushed his chair back abruptly and drew his flaming blade. All of the guards around the room unsheathed their swords as well. The golden masked guards did not move in anticipation of his next move.

"SLAVERY! You brought back SLAVERY!?" Logvarine exclaimed. Gatel stood up and drew his own blade.

"If it comes to it, I am with you Log'!"

"Damn you, you Hlaalu bastard!" said one of the councillors from across the room, "I knew we couldn't trust you! I am receding my vote for the use of our forces permanently!"

Telayn looked taken aback, but Logvarine instead pulled the knife from beside his plate. The Khajiit slave was still standing there, stunned.

"When you joined the empire, you denounced slavery. It was your way of proving allegiance to us! It was our way of proving that Dunmer weren't savages! Look at what you've done to that!" Logvarine threw his left gauntlet off and took the knife, placing it against his palm and gripping it tightly, "I wasn't going to do this… but now that you won't give us your troops, I see no other choice." He slid the knife across his blue-grey hand and blood went running from the wound. The guards went to advance. "Don't you dare…" he warned. They stopped, to everyone's surprise.

Logvarine placed his hand to the table and swiped all of its contents off to clear a space. He placed his bleeding hand onto the surface and then began drawing symbols, daedric symbols.

"Azura! Prince of Dusk and Dawn, Mother of the Rose, Queen of the Night Sky! Thou who art eternal, I place my life in your hands and call thee to the realm of Mundus to do with this body as thou desire!" the air surrounding the symbols began to shift around like a rift in the space itself. The dunmer gathered around the table backed away as the air began to literally distort the images around it. A daedric portal burst forth and a woman draped in light blue robes fell through, landing on the table and onto her knees. Her skin was of Dunmer hue, and her eyes were glowing blood red.

Everyone quickly fell to their knees to bow humbly before their chief deity. Azura took a moment to survey 'her' surroundings before she finally spotted Logvarine and a smile crossed her face.

"_Ahhhhh, so one of my chosen has summoned me… Logvarine, correct?"_ she asked. Logvarine was almost rendered speechless by her stunning beauty. He lowered to his knees and planted his sword into the floor. From all around he could hear people mumbling, "How?" "Why?" "Who is this man?" "This isn't possible."

"Yes, my Prince."

"_And you realize that by using this magic your life is now mine to take if I so wish?"_

"My father taught me the ceremony in case there was ever a time when I was in need, and I need no mercy from you, only your help."

"_You care not for your life?"_ she asked. Logvarine looked up and his mouth hung open as he stared into her eyes.

"Not if I can save the lives of millions." Logvarine said. Azura continued to smile, and she spotted the Khajiit slave girl who had been too stunned to kneel. Azura rose to her feet and drifted off of the table with unlimited grace in her light step. She approached the slave and then felt the cheek of the Khajiit girl.

"_Such exotic beauty…"_ she whispered, but for all to hear. She turned back to Logvarine and left the girl to remain frozen in shock. _"Tell me your needs, and I shall decide if your life is forfeit – especially so since you did not summon me on my summoning day."_

"The Thalmor menace slaughters millions of innocents as we speak, my prince. Your followers, as well as other Daedra worshippers, are one of their primary targets, yet your disciples of house Redoran refuse to help." Logvarine wasn't sure, but as he looked up, Azura actually looked concerned. Her eyes were sad and her mouth was slightly ajar. She turned to look around the room once more.

"_Which of you is of the highest position of power?"_

Councillor Telayn stood up even as his knees continued to quiver.

"I am H-H-High Councillor Telayn, my prince." He stuttered. She approached him as her blue robes flowed out behind her.

"_Tell me, Telayn, why did you not want to help stop the Aldmeri Dominion when they so readily threaten my tribunal with Mephala and Boethiah? When they pose such a real danger to the dunmer way of life?"_ she asked imposingly as she stared into the high councillor's soul. Telayn could find no words to describe the tension he felt.

"I wanted t-t-to help, m-m-my Prince. However, my fellow council members were more than skeptical."

"_Ah, the complications of the Dunmeri council system. Did you ever consider simply… killing those in opposition?"_ Azura said. No one could tell if she was serious or simply jesting.

"I-I-I would never consider killing my fellow-!"

"_You should have."_ She interrupted. She turned around to face the rest of the crowd and everyone was still on their knees, _"Those of you, who were not wanting to march against the High elves, step forward now and I shall show you mercy."_

Almost everyone in the room rose to their feet and a large sum of them were visibly shaking from fear of Azura's godly wrath.

"_You will fight against those who would have my worship outlawed; is this clear?"_

Everyone chorused, "Yes, my Prince." Azura turned once again to Logvarine and motioned for him to rise. Logvarine used his sword as support to pull himself to his feet, and he too was – for once – scared for his life.

"_Is there anything else you require before I pass judgement?"_ she asked. Logvarine turned to see that the Khajiit slave girl was on her knees now. Soft sobs could be heard coming from her, barely audible.

"I ask that you demand to have the slaves of the dunmer released." Logvarine asked.

The room became dead silent in the moments that followed. Azura spread another wide smile across her face. The prince reached out and felt Logvarine's face with a gentle caress.  
_"If it pleases my most prized champion, then it shall be done-!"_

"This is outrageous!" screamed the rowdy councilman that had denounced Logvarine when he had first arrived. Azura did not appear pleased, "Slavery is part of the Dunmer way of life!" Azura flicked her hand out toward the man and a rose stem pierced through his neck, choking him silently as he fell to the ground and began to twitch.

"_Slavery is the realm of Molag Bal, and he is an enemy of the tribunal, old and new."_ She put her hand down, _"I never asked for you to take slaves."_ Azura giggled playfully and turned back to Logvarine. He swallowed hard as he awaited his judgement.

"You have done more than I had ever hoped for, Mother Azura. I am at your mercy." Logvarine said. Gatel wanted to jump in front of her and scream for clemency, but he knew that would only lead to his own death. Logvarine began to think about the family that he was supposed to be starting. What would Catath'een do without him? What would his soldiers do without him? What would his children do without a father? It was too late now; he had made a blood pact with Azura and now was the time of his demise. Blood from his self-inflicted wound ran down the hilt of the blade.

"_And so mercy you shall receive."_ Said the prince. Logvarine looked back up to see the prince smiling. _"You are a great man of influence in this realm, Logvarine. To kill you would be a waste when you could instead spread my word."_ Logvarine got to his knees once again and began to breathe with heavy relief.

"Thank you!" he cried, "A thousand times, thank you, Lady Azura!" Azura turned back to the head councillor and took his hand in both of hers. He shivered at her touch.

"_You will do these things for me, won't you?"_ she asked. To a dunmer, a question from Azura was equal to a demand. Telayn puffed out his chest tried to speak with confidence.

"It will be done to the letter, my Lady."

"_Good, then I shall take my leave – and I expect a pardon for these two for drawing their weapons upon you, since they have… pleased me." _She gestured to the two foreign dunmer. She disappeared in a shower of pink and white petals drifting off a cloud of smoke that dispersed into the air. The loud-mouthed councillor was across the room with a rose stem stuck through his throat, lying dead on the ground.

"Her beauty is only surpassed by her cruelty and wisdom…" Logvarine muttered, "But rarely her mercy."


End file.
